


Charting the Unknown Possibilities of Existence

by hatch87



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Episode: s06e09 Statistical Probabilities, Episode: s07e05 Chrysalis, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genetic Engineering, M/M, Multi, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Episode: s05e16 Doctor Bashir I Presume, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2020-07-27 07:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20041828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatch87/pseuds/hatch87
Summary: Peter Parker disintegrates on Titan, and wakes up in a strange new world.





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

What an utter and dreary waste of great human potential. Q, known to his friends in the continuum as Q had an utter fascination with Humanity, in all its incarnations. Right now, he was watching two of the most gifted intellects one version of Earth ever produced sitting stranded on a dead world with a gaggle of pirates, thieves and murderers. 

Having fought an omnicidal intergalactic warlord seeking some sort of gems to cull half the universe’s population in some misguided attempt to save it. An idiotic thought for anyone with any semblance of knowledge about population growth and resource consumption, but Quinn wasn’t one to judge. 

It would be time soon, that lumbering purple oaf would get his power and in a minute cause untold misery. It started, one by one they faded into dust. The empath, the psychotic balding berserker, the man-child, the wizard (what a joke). Now it was time to act.

Quinn wished he could have taken them both, but one needed to stay and correct this blighted universe. The younger one would be taken to a world where his boundless intellect and curiosity would not be used to find more innovative ways to punch petty criminals and intergalactic despots.

As he watched Anthony Edward Stark hold a scared, dying young boy Quinn gave the customary flourish of his hands. The boy, Peter Parker, would not be consigned to oblivion like the rest of Thanos’ victims. He would find himself in a new world. It would be difficult at first, the world to which he was sending young Peter was fearful of the genetically enhanced. A fear borne of bloody wars that nearly destroyed the Earth. But Quinn had no doubt that he would be fine. He was omnipotent after all.

**Dr. Karen Loews**

It was a funny thought that her career in Starfleet should leave Karen so earthbound. The Institute, as it was colloquially referred to by its residence, specifically the UFP Institute for the Genetically Enhanced in Aarhus, Denmark was supposed to be a waystation, a temporary stop. Genetic enhancement had been outlawed, first by United Earth in the twenty second century, then by the United Federation of Planets which was formed with Earth as a founding member in 2161.  
Genetic Enhancement for any reason other than to treat an inborn illness was illegal as a result of a series of wars that ravaged earth in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. Hundreds of millions died, the planet was almost rendered unlivable. It was understandable. Still, the Federation was nothing if not reasonable. Most cases of genetic enhancement were done by parents to unsuspecting children. While the drive to accumulate wealth was for the most part relegated to the dustbin of human history, the challenge to succeed to one up your neighbors was still ever present. 

More often than not, parents would take their children who were slow to develop out of federation space in order to perform ever riskier procedures so they may live a productive life. As such the federation felt that most of these genetically enhanced people were victims rather than perpetrators. It was Karen’s job to figure out who amongst them would grow to be productive member of society, and who was in danger of becoming the next Khan Noonien Singh.

She was one of many psychiatrists working at the institute, each was assigned several cases to work with. Some, like Karen had a case load of ‘permanent’. It was sad, but there were children who were severely impacted by certain procedures, such as accelerated critical neural pathway formation. She cared deeply for her charges, though there were days when it took all her patience not to tender her resignation.

Today she would be receiving a new patient. A John Doe materialized in the middle of a busy Manhattan street. That in and of itself isn’t a cause for surprise, after all, Transporter technology was widespread throughout the federation and had been for more than two centuries. The young man was, who appeared to be barely seventeen years old was taken for treatment at Bellvue where initial scans revealed that the young man had extensive genetic alterations resulting in highly increased muscle density, increased flexibility, and radically increased activity in the neurocortex, cerebellum, hindbrain, pons and medulla oblongata. 

Changes this extensive have not been seen since the Augment crisis of the mid twenty second century, and before that the Eugenics Wars themselves. The boy was still unconscious, intentionally sedated as a security measure, when he was transported to the institute after having treated the minor contusions and lacerations that dotted his body. He’d recently been involved in a physical altercation. Starfleet had brought additional security when they brought the young man to the Institute. He was taken to a secure med bay where he would be monitored until he woke up. 

Karen approached the young man’s side, as he lay sleeping peacefully. Funny, how he didn’t look any different than any other human. He looked young enough to be Simon’s age. Her son who would be entering Starfleet academy next year. This young man looked like he could be one of Simon’s friends from school.

Still, that would have to wait. Her shift was nearly over, she needed to check on Jack, Lauren, Patrick and Sarina. Then get home and prepare supper. The young man would remain sedated overnight. Karen gathered her belongings, ordered the lights lowered and left the med-bay. 

**Jack**

Unreliable, that’s what Lauren, Patrick and Sarina were. Supremely unreliable. Yes, absolutely. That’s why he was now conducting this operation on his own, yes. The doctors at the hospital including Loews think they’re unobservant. Their minds too preoccupied to notice a new patient. 

It wouldn’t do. There is no reason a fellow mutant should wake up to a shrink rather than one of his peers. That’s the thought process that drove Jack to circumvent the security protocols put in place around the med-bay. He tried to browbeat Patrick into helping, if only so he could have a patsy if he was caught. Still, he didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone but himself. The guards and doors were almost too easy to bypass.  
Jack produced a medical tricorder and began a cursory scan of the young man. Jack looked past the genetic enhancements; his body appeared to contain residual levels of endocrine disruptors such as Bisphenol A, as well as other pollutants that had not been present at these levels on humans since the late twenty first century. 

Now that was fascinating. He had a genuine, bona-fide time anachronism on his hands. Two options came to mind, one of the many eugenics wars era fertilized eggs brought to term. Or a time-traveler. A dangerous prospect either way.  
Jack loved a mystery. Breaking into the replication system of the med-bay came as easily to Jack as breathing. He replicated a stimulant to wake the sleeping augment, stuck it in a hypo and approached the bio-bed.

Should he do it? His thoughts ran at warp nine; parsing the various pros and cons of waking the unconscious mutant before him. Carpe diem, he thought to himself, seize the day. Pressing the hypo against the young man’s neck, he pushed the applicator. A small groan escaped the young man and his eyes fluttered open slowly in the darkened room.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up in a strange new world.

**Karen Loews – March 11th, 2373**

Karen blearily opened her eyes, as the world around her came into focus the sound of the comm system’s chime became ever clearer. She groaned as she tossed the covers off of her, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger and letting her feet hit the floor.

“Computer, time,” she called out.

The monotone reply came back “The time is 0235 hours.”

Shambling over to the communications console, she hit the controls and a young Orion woman’s face in a grey and black uniform, with a yellow undershirt appeared on screen.

The young ensign looked suitably apologetic “Sorry to wake you ma’am, there’s been a security breach at the institute, all patients are accounted for except Jack. And the med-bay is locked out.”

Jack, it would be him. Taking a deep breath, Karen replied “I’m on my way, keep guards posted in front of the med-bay but don’t try to go in, at least not until I get there.”

“Understood, ma’am.” The signal cut and the communications display went blank.

Karen quickly changed from her nightgown into comfortable civilian clothes and a winter jacket, she never did like to wear the uniform during off duty hours. She entered the hallway, as the adjacent door opened and her bleary-eyed, dirty blonde haired eighteen-year-old son looked at her.

“Mom?”

“Go back to bed, sweetheart. Just a small security incident at the institute.”

Simon rolled his eyes, easily guessing the culprit, “Jack, again?”

“Who else?”

Yawning, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek “Be careful, alright.”

“I can handle Jack well enough, “she said, mildly irritated, “go back to sleep, I’ll be home before breakfast.”

Simon turned around, went back into his room, as she left left her apartment. Despite the advent of weather control on Earth, Stockholm nights were still freezing in winter. She followed the well-lit street to the public transport terminal. Entering the transport code for the terminal on Christiangade in Aarhus Karen saw her transport credit account take a small hit. She engaged the transporter and was awash in blue light.

Materializing in front of the ancient former twentieth century prison, the choice for the location of the institute never failed to baffle her. A hangover from a more suspicious time when it came to augments, she was always told. Its facilities have been renovated to twenty-fourth century standards, but she was willing to bet her patients would feel less like prisoners if they weren’t housed in a former prison.

Karen picked up her pace as she approached the gate, pressing her palm against the security console allowed her entrance into the facility. Walking through the corridors, onto the second-floor location of the med-bay she spotted the young Orion security officer, weapon in hand.

“You can put your phaser away Teyla, this isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with Jack being where he shouldn’t.”

The young woman looked skeptical, but relented, holstering her weapon.

Karen exasperatedly looked up and uttered “Computer, override med-bay lockout. Security code: Lowes pi-alpha-four-four-black.” 

The tell-tale chime was followed by the doors sliding open with their signature hiss.

Whatever she expected to see it wasn’t Jack holding a broom trying to poke her John Doe who was crawling on the ceiling. She looked at Teyla, then looked again, wondering if this wasn’t some kind of hallucination. 

By this point Jack had noticed her, and abruptly dropped the implement he was using, the John Doe himself deftly dropped to the floor, landing gracefully. Karen had no time to admire that though.

Putting on her best, no-bullshit mom voice Karen admonished the “Jack, we’re going to have a long talk about this in the morning. For now, you’ll follow Teyla back to your dorm do you understand?”

Jack was never one to back down before two or three tries “He’s a time traveler! He’s genetically enhanced but nothing like us…”

“Jack!” Karen interrupted, harshly, “back to your dorm.”

Deflating for a brief moment before putting his confident façade back on the fast-talking augment strode out the door with a “fine, not like you deserve my help anyway.”

The beleaguered Orion security officer looked at Karen, silently asking the question to which she replied, “I’ll be fine Teyla. I don’t think our friend is a threat, is that right?” She asked in the direction of the young man.

“Uhh, no ma’am,” Came a sheepish reply.

“See?” This was enough for the young Orion ensign who followed Jack out the door, as it closed with a hiss behind Karen. She could now turn her full attention to her patient, this isn’t an ideal way to start a first interaction, but being ever the professional, Karen pointed the young man to an adjoining office.

“Can I get you something to drink or eat? This must be very confusing for you.” Karen always thought herself a good judge of character, she turned her back to him and went into the office to the replicator. Making herself a cup of chamomile, she offered it to the young man following her, looking on with a baffled or possibly amazed expression on his face.

Accepting the saucer and cup of steaming liquid infusion, he looked at the floor and then back up at Karen who tried to put on her best bedside manner.

“Umm, not to be rude or anything. But who are you, and where am I?

Karen gave a small smile, “I’m Doctor Karen Loews” As if saying her name had a calming effect on the young man, she watched his shoulders slump down a little. “You’re at the Federation Institute for the Genetically Enhanced, on Earth. What’s your name?”

The young man looked panicked for a brief second before instantly regaining his composure, talking quicker and quicker with every word uttered “Parker, Ma’am. Peter Parker. Look ma’am if you contact Tony or Pepper Stark, I’m sure they can tell you who I am, but please I beg you don’t tell anyone about my powers! It’s just, I have a lot of enemies who would hurt my family if they found out and…”

Karen put down her own cup of tea, and placed a calming hand on Peter’s shoulder, “Whatever happens here is covered by doctor patient confidentiality. But you must know that the authorities are already aware of your genetic status.”

“What? What authorities?”

“Well, you materialized in midtown Manhattan. Starfleet security found you unconscious and took you to Bellevue hospital where preliminary scans immediately picked up on your genetic enhancements, at which point you were transported here.”

“Federation security?” Peter was looking ever more confused.

Then remembering the accusation Jack hurled earlier during the chaos, Karen hoped he was full of it when she asked “Peter, do you remember the date?”

Peter closed his eyes intently, before opening them “last I remember it was April 18, 2018.”

A small silence filled the room before Karen sighed, “Oh dear. Please have a seat, it seems I have a lot of explaining to do.”


	3. Chapter 1, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter adjusts to his new life.

**Chapter 1, Part 2  
Peter Parker – March 11, 2373, 03:30 **

The last twenty-four hours were some of the most trying in Peter’s life since he saw life leave his Uncle Ben’s eyes. He did not regret following Tony after the attack on Earth. His reasons still stood, how could there be a friendly neighborhood Spider-man if there is no neighborhood.

Now though, he wasn’t sure what to think. The last thing he remembered before being woken by a twitchy mental patient was a horrible prolonged feeling of literally falling apart, before everything went to black.  
Dr. Loews, or Karen as she insisted Peter call her calmly explained where he was. Back on Earth, although a very different Earth. There was lots of confusion in the initial conversation between the two of them because certain things did not line up. The 2018 that he came from and the recorded history of 2018 here were very different.

There was no super-heroics to be found amongst the genetically enhanced warlords that ran rampant in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries of this Earth. It was an age of war and tyrants in which millions died.  
Dr. Loews even looked Peter up in the Federation Genealogical Database. There was a Peter Parker born to Richard and Mary Parker on August 10, 2001. There was no indication he was ever an ‘augment’ as these people called the genetically enhanced of that era. In fact, he was a tenured professor in the Engineering faculty of Columbia University. Apparently in this reality Peter perished with six-hundred million others in the May Day Horror of 2053, the final act of the Third World War which had ravaged this Earth for decades.

Peter assumed Thanos succeeded, so he perished with untold numbers in a universal culling. Peter wondered if he was the only one to find himself in this strange place. Karen showed him the security feed footage of his prone naked form appearing out of thin air on Fifth Avenue.

She said it was different from Transporter technology which is commonly used for teleporting between places. Transportation technology, it was just one of the things Peter would have to get used to three-hundred years in an alternate Earth. He just casually had multiverse theory confirmed. Life came at Peter fast, and in ever stranger ways.

After about an hour of conversation and calming herbal tea Karen had informed him, due to his genetic status he’d be confined to this facility for the time being. Genetically enhanced people were required to undergo psychological profiling, as every case of superior breeding has been accompanied by superior ambition. 

Karen gave him a primer in history from the Eugenics Wars, to the Augment Crisis of the mid twenty second century, to the activities of one Khan Noonien Singh upon discovery of his sleeper ship by the crew of the USS Enterprise.  
“Now, most cases of genetic engineering nowadays don’t result in such behavioral changes. Since they’re done illegally, underground the patients more often than not suffer some kind of side-effects. You’ve met Jack, his conditioning resulted in a propensity for paranoia and bouts of uncontrollably violent behavior. There are other patients that show different problems, all resulting from the same procedure. You’ll meet them in time.”

Peter did not like the idea of being confined to the facility. Dr. Loews assured him based on an initial assessment that she’d be able to at least give him free reign to leave the facility as long as he reported back every night. This would take a few days, possibly weeks to get through the bureaucratic ringer, and if Peter showed no signs of aberrant behavior, he’d be free to start a new life completely outside the institute within a span of months.

For now, though, it was 03:30 hours, and they both needed to return to bed. He’d be assigned quarters in the morning as soon as the day shift staff. Unfortunately, that meant that for tonight at least he’d need to stay in the med-bay. She’d give him access to the food replicator in case he got hungry.

Peter wasn’t hungry. He realized that the doctor was trying her best to assuage his fears. She was not the type to start sticking needles and experimenting on him. She asked him if he needed anything else, and despite the cocktail of stimulants running through him right now Peter was too tired, so he said no and bid the doctor good night.

As he laid in the examination bed, staring at the ceiling he took stock of everything that happened to him in the last twenty-four hours. Up to know he was feeling numb, but knowing that he might never see May, or Ned and MJ, or Mr. Stark again the dam broke.

Tears prickled in his eyes and he found it hard to breathe as he was wracked with sobs. Minutes later he finally calmed himself lying in fetal position he allowed his exhaustion to take him.

**March 11, 2373, 08:30 **

His eyelids and mouth felt dry as the sunlight seeped into the clinic where Peter spent the night. As far as he could tell he was the only patient in here, the other two beds were empty. He looked around at the various glass panes, with multicolored displays. He assumed it was some kind of computer system used by the Institute.

He heard his stomach rumble and remembered one of the things that this new future offered was food replication. Simply asking the computer at the terminal resulted in whatever piqued your fancy appearing in front of you.  
Peter slowly got up and went into the adjoining office. Following the instructions Karen showed him last night, he pushed a series of controls and ordered a simple breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast. Last night he was too confused, too emotionally vulnerable to appreciate the idea of food materializing out of seemingly nothing.

Taking the tray of food onto the office clinic desk he tucked in, wondering what was next. As if on cue, the door opened and Dr. Loews walked in, wearing a similar grey and black uniform he saw on the security officer last night who escorted Jack out of the med-bay only with a blue undershirt rather than a yellow one. 

Peter wiped the sides of his mouth and stood up abruptly, before he was interrupted “No, please, stay seated and finish.”

Peter nodded and took his seat again.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Dr. Lowes asked.

Peter nodded mutely.

“Good, this morning we’re going to get you properly settled in. That means we’re going to register you in the Federation Database, send out an application for Federation citizenship which is a formality since you’re human. Then we’ll get you a set of quarters in the facility.”

Peter nodded, paying attention to the information dump.

“But that will all come in a few hours, for now please finish your breakfast. I want to give you a tour, introduce you to some of my other patients. If you’re up for it.”  
“Umm, is this a military facility of some sort?” That was the first question that came to Peter’s mind.

Karen smiled, “of some sort, yes. Starfleet isn’t a conventional military organization that you may be used to. Our primary mission is one of exploration and diplomacy, with defense taking a secondary albeit also important role.”  
“Oh, Starfleet, obvious question but that means you work in space?”

“Yes, Starfleet primarily operates in space. It is the main military arm of the United Federation of Planets. I realize I haven’t had a chance to fill you in on everything yet, but the Federation is an interstellar nation-state comprising one-hundred fifty member worlds, thousands of colonies spanning an area of some eight thousand cubic light years.”

Peter tried to process this vast, interstellar empire (was it an empire?) he found himself part of now. “And we’re one of the member worlds?”

“Earth is one of the four founding members, along with Vulcan, Andoria, and Tellar Prime. This facility is home mostly to genetically engineered humans, but you’ll find a vast array of peoples from all corners of the Federation here on Earth,” Karen’s open palm pointed to the door, “come along, if you’re up for it.”

Peter nodded, following the doctor out of the door into the corridor, “Where on Earth am I exactly?”

“Aarhus, are you familiar with Denmark?”

“Familiar? Yes, though I’ve never been until now. Actually, I barely ever left New York, only went to Europe once with Mr. Stark for..uhh reasons.”

Karen raised a single eyebrow, “Well, let me be the first to welcome you then.”

“Is this home for you?”

“No, I was born on Tycho City, on Luna. And I currently live in Stockholm with my son, Simon. He’s about your age.”

“Luna, as in the Moon?”

“The very same, though we don’t call it that anymore, we also refer to The Sun as Sol. Since we’re, you know, used to traveling to multiple moons and systems these days.”

“Got it,” Peter followed her through the door to a large open multi-purpose space, filled with various tables, computer terminals, a food replicator and against the wall opposite from the entrance a large screen with a scrolling display in a script that Peter could not understand.

In front of the display, standing at alert with his right hand tucked underneath his left arm, and his left hand holding up his chin Peter immediately recognized Jack. Hard to forget the lunatic who assailed him in his sleep last night. That wasn’t a generous thought, Peter realized a moment later.

Beside Jack, engrossed in whatever was on the screen was a portly older balding man, looking nervously between Jack and the screen.

On a chaise lounge Peter saw a young woman staring ahead catatonically, with a handsome woman in a sundress, around May’s age behind her brushing her hair.

As the door opened, all four denizens turned to look at Dr. Loews and the new arrival. 

“Jack, you’ve already met.”

Jack hummed to himself and nodded. Then turned his attention immediately back to the screen.

“The older gentleman is Patrick, one of our long-time residents.” The man in question gave a sheepish hello then also returned his attention back to whatever it is they were engrossed in.

“And over there we have Sarina and Lauren.” The young woman kept staring into space, seemingly unaffected by her surroundings, the older woman put down the brush, got up and sauntered over to Peter. She placed an index finger under his chin, lifting his head up to meet her bedroom eyes.

“My, he is a pretty one.”

Peter started stammering a weak “Hel..hello.”

“He loves me already, Karen.”

A harrumph came from Jack’s end and in a hostile tone he said “Don’t’ be too proud of yourself, she’s like that with everyone.”

“I rejected you, didn’t I?” Karen said with contempt looking back in his direction before returning

Jack turned on his heel, “And you still regret it to this day!”

“Jack?” The timid older man asked.

“What are you up to Jack?” Karen asked.

“Perusing the proceedings of the transwarp conference on Vulcan. Bunch of amateurs don’t realize that quantum slipstream is much more viable avenue for research. Hmm, yes.”

Karen continued, “Well, Peter here will be staying with us for the time being.”

“Hmph, he can pass for normal even if he can stick on the ceiling, he won’t stay forever. No point getting to know him.” Jack said offhandedly.

Karen shook her head, then silently motioned for Peter to head back through the door. He followed Karen farther down the corridor.

“As you can see, some of our more permanent patients are people who’d been negatively impacted by genetic enhancement. They’ve all undergone the same procedure as children, accelerated critical neural pathway formation. In all their cases, it led to severe side-effects. I’ve explained Jack already, but Patrick the older man has been emotionally stunted at an eight-year old’s level. And Lauren, she developed an overly narcissistic and amorous personality.”

Peter hoped he wouldn’t need to stay here forever, Jack already declared him too normal so maybe he didn’t need to worry. Then he remembered there was a fourth patient.

“What about Sarina?”

“Sarina’s condition is probably the most difficult to live with. Her cerebral cortex cannot process sensory information fast enough. It leaves her unable to focus on any of her surroundings, and in the near catatonic state you saw her in.”  
Peter was slowly beginning to see why these practices had been outlawed by the Federation.

Another door opened to reveal a bedroom, slightly bigger than the one he called home in Queens in a past life. It was clean, albeit sparingly appointed. With a twin-sized bed, a desk, chair and a computer terminal.

“This is your room, Peter. Make yourself at home. You have free reign of the facility, you can ask the computer verbally if you need directions anywhere. It’ll also provide you a connection to the Federation’s public network and databases.”

Peter nodded, looking around the room.

“We’ll have our meeting with the magistrate at sixteen hundred hours, to settle your citizenship. After I’ll go over with you the series of appointments, we need to get through over the next several weeks to get you through this whole process.”

“Ok, Doc.” 

“Peter, tell me now, are you feeling alright? This must all be overwhelming.”

Peter thought about what to say, and decided if he was to get out of here as soon as possible it would have to be the unvarnished truth, “I don’t know doc. I’m feeling kind of numb right now.”

Karen nodded. She picked up a tablet that was lying on the desk and tapped in a series of commands before handing it to Peter, “This is how you can get into direct contact with me, no matter what the circumstances I’m here to help you, so don’t hesitate to call. Ok?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“None of that now, just call me Karen. I’ll let you get settled in, and I’ll see you in a few hours,” she gave Peter a comforting pat on his shoulder and turned around and left his quarters.

Peter looked around, taking in his threadbare surroundings. Then he sat down at the computer terminal and started following the helpful tutorial for FedNet access. With a passing thought to Aunt May, Ned, MJ and Mr. Stark Peter conceded that this was to be his home for the time being, may as well get comfortable.

**March 14, 2373, 13:21**

Time passed slowly at the institute. Peter had gotten to know his fellow mutants as Lauren called them and found beneath their anti-social or aberrant behavior there were four people, who while extremely intelligent were hard done by their circumstances. Even in this seemingly utopian world, there were people left behind.

Patrick, for example, though emotionally volatile was capable of amazing insight beyond topics of scientific interest. What he lacked in emotional control, he made up for in emotional intelligence. He had a scary knack in manipulating people, even astute professionals like the Starfleet security personnel. 

Lauren, beyond her amorous and hedonistic façade was a kind woman, she was the mother hen of the group who acted as a protective shield for the others. She could also be wickedly funny impressionist. She was easy to like, despite the sometimes-inappropriate come-ons. 

Jack was clearly hurt at some point, and inflicted pain on others to shield himself. Peter had seen plenty of that, it was typical adolescent behavior, too bad Jack was somewhere in his thirties. Sarina remained a mystery, locked away as she was inside her own mind.

The first appointments with Dr. Loews had been simplistic. He was asked a series of questions, given a series of scenarios and asked how he would react, nothing specific to his condition or powers. She’d ask, he’d answer, she’d record his answers and betrayed nothing. Of course, if he’d get anxious, she assured Peter that he needn’t worry about anything.

His meeting with the magistrate was perfunctory. The man asked his name, date of birth, species, and gender; then made him ‘sign’ his thumbprint on an affidavit indicating everything he said was true. Peter was not used to such a smooth bureaucratic process. His meeting was on Sunday afternoon and by Monday morning he was a newly minted citizen of the United Federation of Planets. 

His testimony was also logged with the Department of Temporal Investigations. It was another interview he’d have to face in the coming weeks; though it gave Peter some comfort to know he wasn’t the only person here out of time. 

This ultimately was what allowed him to leave the premises of the Institute, if he kept it as his primary residence, he was free to spend his days however he wished. This was how Peter, on the advice of Dr. Loews found himself at a public transport terminal.   
Peter was given a primer on how to use this system, and a credit chit. The Federation had abandoned a currency-based economics, so the transport credits existed more as means of accounting energy use rather than being a medium of exchange and was thus easily replenished.

The good doctor asked him to join her for supper later in the day at her Stockholm residence, but for now he was going home in a sense. He input the transport code for Forest Hills, Queens, New York. Peter hesitated slightly, despite Dr. Loews’ assurances that this was the safest mode of transportation, Peter felt some trepidation about being reduced to digital information and rematerialized in another location. He had already been disintegrated once, and he tried to tell himself that this wouldn’t be the same.   
As he heard someone coming up behind him, he closed his eyes and engaged the transporter. A blue light seemed to wash over him and he felt a slight tingle. Suddenly the Christiangade facility disappeared. The first thing he noticed was it was darker, barely sunrise. Made sense, there was a six-hour time difference between New York and Denmark. Second thing he noted was that it was colder.

He exited the terminal and took in his surroundings. It looked nothing like the Forest Hills of his memory. For instance, there was much more open green space, more akin to Central Park in Manhattan than his old Queens neighborhood. Still, his sense of direction would serve him well. The street was bustling with a morning rush hour crowd. Even beyond the diversity of human faces that was typical of New York he saw all sorts of new people, some humanoid, some very different.

Taking to the city he went in search of Ingram street, and found it easily enough. It was strange to walk the streets of New York and not see a single car, or truck on the tarmac. Public streets were fully pedestrians, and highways where they existed were in the sky, or on elevated train platforms. The city even smelled different, cleaner. Apparently it was true, despite it being three-hundred some odd years in the future, this New York city only had half the population of the one he grew up in between the impact of the third world war and people leaving the Earth to populate various off-world colonies.

20 Ingram street came up and Peter didn’t know what to expect, obviously his old semi-dilapidated apartment building was not what stood in front of him. It looked like an glass and steel office complex more at home in Silicon Valley than an apartment building in Queens.

He sighed and kept walking. Then his eyes caught something he did not expect to see. On a modern façade hung an old, weather-beaten sign that read Delmar’s Deli and Grocery, est. 1978. Peter couldn’t believe it. An automated door opened with a welcome hiss, and the fluorescent lights greeted him. He traipsed through the aisles taking in all sorts of foods that he wasn’t used to seeing so the vast corners of the Federation. Pickled vegetables from Tama and Vulcan, new types of rice and grain staples with labels that he couldn’t make heads or tails of. 

What the hell is Tarkelian Tea? He thought to himself, putting down the box. It was strange to him, seeing someone man a store front in a society that had transcended currency-based economics. Still, apparently there was a demand for real, non-replicated food and Delmar’s was there to provide. He went to the counter, looking at the sandwich menu. Few of the items seemed familiar, but there it was. Peter zeroed in on it. He approached the bored blue skinned (Andorian?) woman manning the counter,  
“Uhh, number five please, with pickles. And can you smush it down real flat?”

The alien woman looked at him with an expression only someone whose lived their whole life in New York could adopt. Huh, the more things change Peter guessed. She wrapped the sandwich in parchment paper, taped it and handed it over.  
Peter went out in the street, unwrapped the foodstuff and bit into it. Apparently, there were things that transcended universes and Peter was instantly taken back. He could almost believe that in a few moments he’d see May, Ned and MJ.   
Stuffing the parchment paper in his pocket, he continued walking. What he wouldn’t give to have his suit and web-shooters right now. He was used to keeping his senses alert, but he walked for hours and hours, not a single scream or yelp. An older woman almost tripped, and Peter was quick enough to catch her. She gave him a smile, and a quick thank you and continued on her way. 

He walked for hours, through Queens, Williamsburg, across the east river eventually to Battery Park City. Then he resigned himself. This version of New York did not need a Spider-man, hell it probably barely needed a police force.  
Peter checked the time, he had two hours, deciding it would be prudent to get home and freshen up he found the nearest terminal and completed another instantaneous trans-Atlantic transport. Finding himself in front of the old jailhouse, he checked in with the on-duty Starfleet security. It was Teyla, from his first night.

The young Orion ensign gave him a friendly greeting, “Hey, Pete. The doctor said you’d gone back to your old neighborhood; how did that go?”

Peter placed his palm on the reader, it turned green, and responded “Good, I mean it’s almost nothing like the city I left behind but, there were some familiar sights.”

“Oh?”  
“Yeah, it…it felt good, but bittersweet, you know?”

“I don’t, not really but I’m glad you got something out of it. Now, go on.”

Peter entered the facility, moving on to his quarters. He entered the lavatory, shedding his clothes, throwing them in the hamper. He entered the sonic shower and winced as he turned it on, it grated on his enhanced senses, but it was nothing he couldn’t get over.

It was weird feeling clean without the need to dry up. He approached the sink and looked at his face in the mirror, the dark bags that had been under his eyes the first night seemingly disappeared. Leaving the lavatory, he donned a pair of trousers, a shirt and sweater and the pair of Converse sneakers Dr. Loews had replicated for him at his request.

Following the path out of his quarters to Dr. Loews’ office, he almost walked into Lauren.

With a lascivious grin, she asked “Peter, how was the old stomping grounds?”

Then Peter remembered that Lauren spent, whatever short childhood she had in Flushing. Not that far from his old grounds.

He put on an easy smile, “Good, Lauren. You wouldn’t believe it; I’ve traveled across universes and three hundred years and my favorite sandwich place was sitting there waiting for me.”

“Almost enough to make you believe in some higher power, huh?”

“Yeah, probably one of those Ancient Greek ones who liked to screw around with mortals right?”

She winked at him, “I’ll let you go, the doctor is waiting.  
”  
Peter opened the door to Karen’s office to see the woman putting on a coat for the cold, Scandinavian weather, and grab her handbag.

“Ready to go Peter?”

“Yes ma’am!” 

“Peter, enough of that ma’am crap.”

“Sorry, ma’am” She rolled her eyes at his obvious teasing. Following her out he asked, “Do you ever take the other patients home for dinner?”

“Oh certainly. Though I must take a few more precautions, you know like hiding the sharper cutlery from Jack,” she replied “Simon’s also familiar with those four, during breaks in school he makes a point to visit. Patrick is especially fond of him.”

Peter nodded, following her past security to the terminal. She looked at him, asking if he was ready. He nodded, feeling none of the trepidation he felt during his first trip. The now familiar blue light washed over him and the Danish street disappeared again.


	4. Chapter 1, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meetings and Surprise Reunions

**Chapter 1, Part 3  
Simon Loews**

Enjoying his last few months of his gap year before moving to San Francisco and taking his place at the Academy, Simon had taken up a number of hobbies. Now he was immersed in a game of kal-toh over the comm. His friends, few that they were, went their separate ways. T’Lara, his erstwhile best friend named after her great grandmother who was still serving as a Starfleet Admiral, was back home on Vulcan, preparing to attend the Vulcan Science Academy. She would be the first person in four generations in her family not to enroll in Starfleet. 

His other classmates, who he was mostly happy to be rid of always looked askance at their friendship, wondering what exactly Simon got out of his friendship with the ‘frigid hobgoblin’. T’Lara had shown him some of her meditation techniques, and he didn’t get into nearly as many scrapes on her behalf as he used to, and nearly always without her knowledge. 

The face on the other end of call betrayed no emotion, of course she didn’t, she was the consummate Vulcan. The room was silent enough to hear a pin drop, as Simon slowly threaded the t’an, a small silver rod through an emerging latticework. The holographic image temporarily dissolved and reappeared to reveal a slightly more orderly form.  


“Hah!” Simon exclaimed, punching the air and feeling rather proud of himself.

“_Shouldn’t you be getting ready to meet your new guest?_” Came the sardonic retort.

“Ah you’re just saying that cause I’m wiping the floor with you.”

“_Doubtful,_” came the reply as she took her turn. Was it an improvement? The lattice certainly didn’t look any worse. 

“I’m ready, anyway. Well, mostly.”

“_You’re sitting at your desk without any trousers on, aren’t you?_” She asked.

“How could you tell?”

“_I have perfect recall, including remembering your ‘rules for mental gamesmanship’ which you laboriously slurred last week at Sandrine’s._” 

Simon kept staring at the latticework trying to figure out his next move. As he’d had it explained to him numerous times, it wasn’t a game of balance. More about finding patterns of growth. He bet the mutants at mom’s facility would have already finished this game.

“Yeah, it’ll take no time to put pants on. Besides, it’s just some kid from the facility visiting, not the Admiral,” he said, invoking his friend’s namesake.

“_If you say so_”, one of the reasons he liked T’Lara was that she wasn’t much of a talker, whereas he was a chatterbox. Especially after a few drinks.

Simon inserted the rod and watched the latticework partially fall-apart. He groaned, not understanding where he’d gone wrong.

“_You’re still treating this like a game of Jenga, which it is very much not_” she said in her perfunctory manner as she placed a rod and the completed latticework came into view. 

“Ah well, I’ll get it next time.”

“_Again, doubtful. Same time next week?_”

“You know it, Tee. Later!” Simon pressed down on the controls, the screen went blank and the kal-toh game dissolved into nothing.

He got up from his desk and jumped into a pair of trousers, clasping them closed and zipping up. Leaving his room, he sauntered through the apartment to the kitchen to check on the roast pork and vegetables his mom asked him to prepare.

On a bit of a self-improvement kick since completing secondary school, Simon took up a new hobby every week, but the one that stuck with him was cooking. He told T’Lara that when society collapsed people with the ability to prepare real food would be in demand from the new rising class of feudal overlords. Whoever said Vulcans aren’t emotional clearly never saw her roll her eyes in exasperation.

Simon had a morbid sense of humor. For years now it had been him and his mom, his dad Alvin was the CMO aboard the USS Kyushu and perished at Wolf 359 nine years ago. He was never one to outwardly express what he was truly feeling except near friends and family, which is probably why he became fast friends with a Vulcan. Unlike her, however he fully internalized everything and when it exploded it came out in the most inappropriate ways.

It didn’t make him popular with his peer group. Still, that was about to change. Starfleet Academy would offer a new start. But first, the roast. He opened the oven, grabbing the baster to re-coat the glaze over the glistening meat, then closing it again quickly. Timer said it needs another hour, plenty of time to get through the meze sitting in the fridge.  


A chime interrupted his milling about the kitchen. He could hear the door open, and his mom call his name.

“Coming!” 

She was hanging her coat up, as he saw their guest enter in from behind her. Aaand…well. That’s it? From what his mom told him, she’d never seen such extensive differences from the baseline human norm in a patient, which had Simon picturing some roided up fire-breathing monster. This guy looked like any other kid his age. 

Oh well, if he was less stabby than Jack that would be a marked improvement, so he held out his hand, “Hi, I’m Simon.”

Simon’s face twinged slightly with pain as the young man returned his grip, “Peter, nice to finally meet you.”

“Hell of a grip, Peter! What does Mom talk me up at work?”

Peter saracstically replied “Oh yeah, they’re talking about renaming the institute after you,” there was no bite behind the remark. Good, Simon thought to himself. A sense of humor, thank goodness.

Simon smiled back, “come on, I’ve got goodies waiting in the fridge. Hope you’re hungry.”

Karen came into the conversation “How’s T’Lara doing?”

“Hell if I know, that cold Vulcan exterior betrays nothing.”

“That good huh?”

The trio entered the kitchen cum dining room as Simon went to the fridge and slowly unloaded the appetizers onto the island. 

“Pete, can I call you Pete?”

“Fine with me,” Simon failed to notice the minor blush.

“What are you drinking?”

“Water?”

“Just water, no wine, ale, anything?”

“Uhh, no just water.”

Simon shrugged, produced a glass, and filled it with water, before passing it to Peter. He poured himself a glass of wine, synthehol at his mom’s insistence when meeting new guests. 

“Well, tuck in. Mom told me you have a bit of an accelerated metabolism, so I prepared a lot.”

Karen looked between the two of them, “I’m just going to freshen up, you two go on.”

The awkward silence that followed Karen leaving the room was interrupted by both of them trying to talk at once.

“No, please, you go” Peter insisted.

“So how are you finding life in the twenty fourth century so far?” Simon mentally himself for not coming up with something smarter. 

“I mean…I think I’ve barely touched on it. So far the most interesting thing I’ve done is use a transporter, and yeah that’s scary the first time, but..” 

Simon swallowed the foodstuff he was holding in his hand, “Yeah, it’s always a laugh the first time. Did you ask yourself the existential dread questions?”

“Huh?”

“Oh you know, ‘how do I know that the version of myself that dematerializes and reappears is the same. Do I die every time I step on the pad, that sort of thing?”

“Uhhh….” Peter’s eyed Simon nervously. 

“Oh god, I just ruined it all for you didn’t I”

“No. Well, yes, sort of. Sorry you just hit a little close to home for a second there,” That piqued Simon’s interest, but he saw it was a touchy subject and decided to tread carefully.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized sincerely. 

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean anything by it. And thanks for not pushing,”

“Of course, that’s mom’s job not mine,” Simon offered a shy smile, Peter returned it although it looked a little forced.

Changing the subject, “So, what’s your plan once you’re free from the confines of the institute?”

“I don’t know, will I be free any time soon?”

Just as Karen was walking into the conversation, picking up a canape Simon turned his attention to her, “What do you think Ma, do we got another Khan Singh in the making here?”

She rolled her eyes at the suggestion, “Think I’d invite him for dinner if he was plotting world domination?”

“Depends.”

“On what?” Peter asked.

“Well, if you could pull it off then it’d be only natural for us to get in your good graces, right mom?” Even Peter managed to grin at that thought.

Before the conversation could continue any further, the oven chimed. Simon jumped up, donning some mitts and retrieving the main course for the evening. Placing it at the dining table he invited the rest of the party to take their seats. Their talk continued through the meal, Simon mostly chattering about himself, a nervous tic of his.

“So, please, tell me. You’ve now experienced the real thing versus replicated. Can you tell the difference?”

Peter looked down at his empty plate, then back at Simon “Honestly, I haven’t had replicated food all day. I went to this sandwich place in New York this morning, then I came straight here. But the food’s very good. Thank you both.”

“No problem Peter, I’ve had the guest bedroom prepared there’s no need to return to the institute tonight.”

“Oh, thank you Karen,” Peter softly replied.

“Finally! He stopped ma’aming me,” she proclaimed to the room, “I’m going to turn in, you two enjoy yourselves.” 

“Will do, mom!” Simon called after Karen as she put away her dishes and left for her room.

“Are you tired Peter?” Simon asked.

“No, not really. You?”

“No, go get your coat. Let’s go for a stroll.”

Peter followed Simon out the door into the well-lit street, “Come on, I’ll show you the old royal palace. Stockholm’s one of the few cities in Europe to retain its old charm after the third world war.”

Peter stared around the narrow street, he could believe he was back in his own time, staring at the old but preserved buildings lit by streetlight, “I never travelled much outside New York, and only once out of country. Well, twice if you count the whole going into space bit that ended with me here?”

“Oh? I thought space travel was rare in your time.”

“You’re going to find out anyway, so I might as well tell you. I’m not from this timeline.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. How much has your mom told you?”

“Just that you’re a displaced augment, from around the Eugenics war era?”

“Yeah, well. That’s only part of the truth.”

As Peter and Simon walked to and along the bay, Peter launched into a spiel about his life. Losing his parents at a young age, living with his aunt and uncle then losing said uncle. The spider-bite, and Peter’s life as a vigilante, as well as Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers and finally his last day before he ended up here. He also talked about how he missed his friends, and his aunt. He didn’t even know if they survived the culling brought about by some near-omnipotent warlord.

Simon could scarcely believe the story, but then remembered Peter’s reaction to his morbid musings on transporter technology, “That…that’s why you were so uncomfortable earlier.”

“…Yeah.”

“God, Peter I’m so sorry.”

Peter kept an easy pace beside Simon, reminding him “I already accepted your apology. You believe me?”

Simon looked at Peter earnestly, “Yeah, I mean it sounds absurd, but I talked to mom about some of the scans she took, how theoretically you could stop a barreling shuttle dead in its tracks without breaking a sweat.”

“I wouldn’t want to try that, but yeah probably.”

“So, must be pretty dull here then huh?”

“Oh, you aren’t kidding. I used to break up at least the odd mugging or help the odd senior citizen to cross a street at least once a patrol in my old neighborhood. This morning I walked from Queens to Manhattan without so much as an incident. Even if I had my web shooters, I couldn’t swing through the city without constantly dodging traffic...” Peter went on about his journey to New York, Simon listening raptly. The duo eventually found themselves back on track for the Loews residence.

Rather than the quiet street they left behind about two hours ago, they were greeted by Simon’s mom in her nightgown and bathrobe standing next to a police shuttle. His mom appeared to be deep in conversation with one of the officers.  


She looked at the two of them, but then something else caught Simon and Peter’s attention. A woman, about his mother’s age exited the shuttle and Peter’s breath hitched. He saw his new friend lock eyes with the newcomer and pick up his gait, the two of them embracing each other and refusing to let go. Peter’s shoulders shook in the as sobs overtook him, and Simon could see tears streaming down the woman’s face as well. 

The police officer returned to his vehicle and flew off as Simon’s mom placed an affectionate hand on the small of his back, “Simon go put on some tea, it seems our evening is not quite over yet.”


	5. Chapter 1 Part 4

**Chapter 1, Part 4  
March 14, 2373 – 00:17  
May Parker**

Her eyes blurred with tears as she held a very real and very much alive Peter Parker in her arms. Three days ago, she was near the end of her shift at New York-Presbyterian Queens when patients started disappearing before her very eyes, and she watched her hands crumble into dust before losing consciousness, her last thoughts of her nephew and praying for his safety. 

When she woke up, she found herself in the very same hospital she worked in, but it looked wrong. She was frantic in those first few moments after waking up, demanding to see her nephew. She couldn’t think, she was in full fight or flight mode before she felt cold metal press down on her neck and lost consciousness once more.

The first day she was effectively unresponsive. The nurses and doctors tried talking to her were unlike anything she’d ever seen before. One pointy eared bastard kept referring to her behavior as illogical. But she wouldn’t speak. That night, she laid in this weird futuristic room, staring at the ceiling and the dam broke. She wept, wept like she hadn’t since Mary and Richard, since Ben. She kept at it, until the morning when 

The next morning, she was met with a hard-faced man called Gariff Lucsly. He reminded May of some of the S.H.I.E.L.D. types that hung around Stark Tower the time Happy had brought her there to read Tony Stark the riot act in the wake of finding out about her nephew being a super-powered vigilante.

Lucsly was from something called the Department of Temporal Investigations. Apparently, her arrival here was accompanied by a spike in something called chroniton particles, she could barely keep up with his chatter. He asked her some simple questions, her name, date of birth, last thing she remembered. The interrogation was over before it started really and she was referred to a temporal displacement counselor.

Clare Raymond was a kind woman in her early 40s. She started explaining to May what happened, at least what happened since she showed up at the hospital. Nobody saw her appear, just found her unconscious in one of the hallways. She was in the future, three-hundred years and change had passed. But that wasn’t the only issue, the history she knew and the history of where she was now did not line up. Her first memory of extra-terrestrials was during the Chitauri invasion in 2012. This Earth hadn’t found out it wasn’t alone in the cosmos until 2063.

Clare brought out a tablet or a PADD as she called it. She said she was looking up May Parker in the Federation Genealogical database. Apparently, her counterpart in this universe died in 2053, during a nuclear attack on New York City, along with her husband Ben. Peter perished in the same attack here, but he was a middle-aged tenured professor not a web-swinging teenage crimefighter. 

Clare explained her own background. How she perished in a sarin gas attack in Indiana during the Eugenics Wars in the 90s, a series of conflicts where genetically engineered supermen tried to take over the planet. Her inconsolable husband had her cryogenically preserved, and she was revived some nine years ago by the crew of a starship. Apparently, she’d spent the better part of three centuries floating through space in a satellite. 

That put May somewhat at ease. Over the next few hours they compared notes, she told her of the super-powered metahumans of her own time, including her nephew. Clare listened intently. She then told May what would happen in the next few days, to get her adjusted. They had no idea how she appeared here and as a result no idea how to bring her back to her own timeline.

She went before a magistrate, giving a sample of DNA and signing an affidavit confirming her identity. She was granted Federation citizenship, promptly, given that she was a human born on Earth. Federation citizenship laws apparently don’t differentiate between alternate timelines.

Clare was with her every step of the way, up to and including opening the doors of her new domicile. She was given an apartment in Brooklyn, overlooking the East River and the Williamsburg Bridge. This would be obscenely expensive in her time, but apparently Humans have long abandoned money as a concept, and this apartment was ready and waiting for a resident to take it. 

Technology had advanced by leaps and bounds as Clare demonstrated using her apartment’s replicator, mainly used for food but it could be used to replicate clothes, household items, whatever May needed. She was given a primer on the use of the Federation wide communications network, and Clare gave May her personal contact information before leaving her alone.

And she was alone. She stared at her new digs. Federation bureaucracy moved fast, and this place felt too good to be true. She guessed she would find out in the coming days. She spent the first night, and next day just lounging around her apartment. May replicated several books, filling up her empty shelves. The weather that day wasn’t conducive for anything other than staying in. So, she did. Spending her first full day familiarizing herself with this new home. Reading up about the various species that made up this Federation, it was like the United States of her time, if it got its shit together.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind for her first meal, she replicated herself a bottle of Malbec, and Lobster Newburg before passing out for the night. Regretting her choices later, after a stomachache and hangover, she decided to take up Clare’s advice and get some non-replicated food. That’s how she found herself walking the streets of Brooklyn on the morning of March 13, she couldn’t get her head around stardates. 

Then she saw him. She could have sworn she saw her nephew or someone who looked remarkably like him help catch a senior citizen before they fell. She tried her best to get through the crowds, but before she could have a chance to shout his name he disappeared from view.

May frantically contacted Clare, asking her if there were any other cases like her recently. Clare wasn’t at liberty to say, but May desperately pleaded with her. Clare brought it up with her superiors, who brought the appeal up all the way to the deputy director of the DTI. 

When Clare was at her door handing her the PADD, May’s hands were shaking violently. A quick sob escaped her, and May’s next request did not even need to be uttered. Clare postponed the remainder of her appointments to follow May to Denmark of all places. May did not react well to her first transport, expelling the contents of her stomach onto the street.

She followed Clare to an old jailhouse was apparently Peter’s new residence, Clare explained the circumstances of the Eugenics Wars and Federation policy towards the genetically enhanced. Apparently once a thorough psychological profile concluded that Peter was not a danger to himself and others, he’d be free to go. 

One of the security staff informed the duo that Peter was staying overnight at his assigned Doctor’s home in Stockholm. She called the local police who escorted the two women to Stockholm via shuttle, landing in a narrow street.   
Clare asked May to remain in the shuttle while she spoke with the Doctor, a woman by the name of Karen Loews. Clare motioned for May to come out, seeing the face of her nephew for the first time in what was days, but felt like years, centuries. 

For the first time in days she felt free of anxiety, and grief. Her nephew was in her arms right now, she wasn’t alone in this strange new world. Whatever else happened, whatever the future had in store for them, she had her family. It was enough.  
Peter looked at her, spoke softly, “May, you’re really here.”

May used her thumbs to wipe the tears from his eyes, “So are you,” she laughed wetly, through her tears, “I thought I hallucinated seeing you in New York. I’m sorry I didn’t think to look for you.”

Peter chuckled, wiping his releasing his aunt and wiping his own eyes, “I’m sorry too. Umm, please come meet Dr. Loews and Simon,” Peter motioned May towards the woman in the bathrobe, “She took good care of me these past few days.”

May turned to the Doctor, pulled her into a hug, “Thank you, I owe you so much.”

They pulled apart as Dr. Loews replied, “You owe me nothing, getting to know Peter was a privilege. Come, Simon’s brewing some tea.”

May looked back at the shuttle, looks like Clare had departed. She shook her head and followed Peter and Karen into their home.

**Peter Parker**

He entered the Loews’ home for the second time this evening, holding onto his Aunt’s hand as if she would slip away if he let go. Simon had four empty cups sitting on the coffee table, he was ever the diligent host and Peter could feel a sense of fondness for the young man despite knowing him for only a couple of hours.

May and Peter took their seats across from Simon and Karen, “Karen,” May began, “I understand Peter is under some kind of custody. “

Ah, straight to the point, just like her, “May, I’m sure we can get through this in the morning.”

Karen came into the conversation “No, it’s alright. No time like the present, right? Mrs. Parker, what your son is going through right now is routine for anyone found to have been the recipient of genetic enhancement. It will take some weeks to get through the whole process, actually your presence may speed things up because you’ll be able to provide a more thorough character reference.”

“Anything I can do to help!” May looked intently at Karen.

“Yes, well. As it stands, Peter is technically under custody of the Institute, more specifically me as attending physician. It’s why he was allowed to stay overnight here, rather than return to the institute. He’s required to stay on Earth, and stay at the institute, but he’s free to do as he wishes during his free time when he’s not undergoing one of our assessment sessions.”

That didn’t sound too bad to May, “Well, being confined to a single planet might seem trying for people in this time, but for us it’s been a fact of life until a few days ago.”

Karen looked at Peter, “I have no doubt that your assessment will see you a free man, however its what comes after that may be the issue.”

May’s brows furrowed, “After?”

Karen sighed, “Federation law does restrict some rights for the genetically enhanced. Peter have you given thought about what you want to do after you’re out of our custody?”

Simon looked sad too, Peter wondered why “No, not really.”

“Well, you might be restricted from certain career paths, like Starfleet.”

“Might?”

“Your case is unique. According to your own testimony, your genetic enhancement was the result of accidental exposure, correct?”

“Yeah. Spider bite, what does that have to do with anything though?”

“Well, if there’s no criminal intent the restrictions might be lifted. I’ve been in contact with an advocate, one of my friend’s spouses. I’m trying to arrange everything, but since there’s no physical evidence we may need to go down another path.”

May looked at her, “Another path for what?”

“Everything I’ve learned about Peter from the limited assessments I’ve done so far leads me to believe you’re an intensely private person. Am I correct?”

Peter nodded, “umm yeah. For the most part.”

“Well. According to Lessik, the advocate in question, if Peter agrees to go before a judge, and agrees to a telepathic reading, usually in the form of a Vulcan mind meld or a direct reading from a trained Betazoid, they would be able to prove intent. That’s still pending Starfleet Medical’s decision after I submit my report though.”

Peter never thought about what would happen afterwards, now he’s filled with niggling doubts. May squeezes his hand, and he looks at her. It’s a small concern in the long run though, “Well, whatever happens, happens.”

“Yes, I want to thank you again for everything you’ve done for Peter, Dr. Loews.”

“Please, call me Karen.”

May’s looked at Peter “Karen, like your AI’s name? That’s a bit serendipitous.”

Peter thought this whole situation was serendipitous. Why him and his aunt, something had to account for that. How he could find out what, that remained to be seen.

Simon raised an eyebrow, “You had an AI named Karen?”

Peter sheepishly answered, “Well, she was more of a semi-intelligent user interface than a true AI.”

The chatter continued for a while, with May providing plenty of embarrassing stories about Peter as a child and Karen reciprocating about Simon. The two women found a lot of common ground, both widows, both proud of the young men they raised. Eventually the kettle was emptied, and Simon and Peter went to put away the dishes.

“Karen, can I ask you a favor?”

Peter looked at May, then at Karen as she put down the cup of tea, “Go ahead.”

“Would there be any way I could volunteer at your institute, although I suppose all work is volunteer work here now that I think about it, I’m a trained nurse, and I’d work hard to catch up on the state of the art.”

Karen looked pensive for the moment, “I can’t make any promises, you understand?” May nodded, and Karen continued, “I’ll bring it up with Starfleet Medical. I can make up the couch for you to stay overnight.”

Peter interrupted from the kitchen, “She can stay in the guest room with me, Karen!”

May looked at him, he smiled back “I’m too relieved to act the part of an embarrassed teenager May.”

She shrugged, “looks like it’s all taken care of.”

“Well, my house is your house for tonight, feel free to replicate any toiletries or supplies. I’m going to turn in, I have an early day tomorrow. I’ll see you back at the institute Peter.”

Peter nodded, wishing her a good night as she returned to her room.

Simon looked at them both, “Yeah I think I’ll turn in too. If you guys are up for it, I’ll take you for breakfast in town.”

May and Peter thanked Simon as they all retreated to their respective bedrooms. It was already one in the morning, although for May it would probably be only around six-thirty in the evening. Both brushed their teeth and changed into replicated nightwear, before retreating to their bed. They looked at each other, and Peter yawned.

“Go to sleep Peter, I’ll be here in the morning.”

Peter closed his eyes, “Love you, May.”

May kissed his forehead, “love you, Pete,” he heard as he let his exhaustion take him.


	6. Chapter 2, Part 1

**Chapter 2, Part 1  
Peter Parker – Stardate 50564 (July 25, 2373)**

The days blurred into one another. May’s presence was a balm to the grief, anxiety and even resentment that he’d felt in the first few days at the institute. It took a month or so, but May was given leave to practice nursing pending a probationary under the supervision of Institute doctors, including Karen.

Peter had ingratiated himself with the rest of Dr. Loews’ group. This is how he found himself in an ostensibly theoretical conversation on how to replenish the Sun’s supply of hydrogen and prevent the inevitable swelling of Sol into a Red Giant. Patrick was expounding on the idea of using a directed nadeon beam to create a micro wormhole to siphon fuel from stars that did not nurture life-bearing worlds. 

Peter was considered a prodigy intellect in his time, its one of the reasons Tony Stark took such a keen interest in the boy. He had to concede that his intellect was dwarfed by Jack, Lauren, Patrick and Sarina. Peter felt for them, truly. Even if some way to treat their mental illnesses existed, they would be condemned to a life of what they would no doubt perceive as mediocrity because of actions beyond their control.

Peter was sitting next to Sarina, who was tapping away at a PADD. For all that he heard about the catatonic girl’s inability to process information, she proved surprisingly astute and provided great insight for the rest of the group.

Lauren took notice, “Jack, I think Sarina solved your muon accumulation issue.”

Jack immediately bounded over to Sarina, grasping the PADD from her grip. He was humming to himself, nodding furiously.

“Genius!” He declared, giving the young woman a peck on the cheek to which she, customarily, did not react. Peter enjoyed these days, when the camaraderie of the foursome shone through. There were other days too, when bickering between Lauren and Jack would send a beleaguered Patrick away weeping and render Sarina non-responsive (even moreso).

Today was not that day, however. Peter decided to spend some time with the group because today would determine whether his interment at the institute would end. The hearing with the Starfleet Medical would take place in San Francisco. Karen sure it was a formality at this point. Her own reports had been glowing, and the other doctors who assessed him betrayed no feelings of trepidation or anxiety in his presence.

Speaking of Karen, she was at the door of the recreation room along with May, beckoning Peter over. Peter looked once more at the group in his midst, Lauren coming up to give him a hug and some encouragement “Knock-em dead.”  
“I hope to never see you again,” Jack’s grin betrayed even his growing fondness for Peter, and Patrick’s face fell at the thought.

Before he dissolved into a sobbing mess, Peter put a gentle hand on Patrick’s shoulder, assuring him that “You guys won’t be rid of me that easily,” and it seemed to assuage some of his fears.

Peter wanted to enjoy the encouragement, but he wouldn’t believe it until the decision had been rendered. He turned towards May and Karen, walking out the facility, past the security checkpoint where Teyla wished him luck. 

Stepping into the transport terminal, he input the code for the Presidio, the grounds of Starfleet headquarters. Simon was already there, completing the last round of his entrance exams. He assured Peter, no matter the outcome the two of them would go out and get hammered, whether in celebration or commiseration.

The blue light washed over him, a ritual he was well practiced in by now and the quiet Danish street was replaced by a bustle of uniformed bodies, some striding with determination, some strolling and enjoying the beautiful grounds for what they were. May and Karen materialized behind him, the trio starting their journey to the Medical headquarters, a large trapezoidal structure with the well-known caduceus seal adorning the side.

Entering the sterile halls, he took in the wall showing portraits of the various directors of the agency. The only one he recognized was a red-headed woman who held the position in 2365 and was previously and currently the CMO of the USS Enterprise. Numerous ships held the name, and Peter’s interest in the public domain mission logs gave him great admiration for the crews who served upon those vessels.

He didn’t want to give in to hope, but Peter was sure that if Starfleet Medical ruled in his favor, he’d want to follow Simon into the Academy. It afforded him everything he could ever want, a career of service and intellectual stimulation all in one. 

He’d given up on the idea of being Spider-man in the last few months. Earth did not need a vigilante crime-fighter, most worlds in the Federation did not. And those that required help would need it would not benefit from a solitary person punching muggers, robbers and rapists.

Dr. Loews checked the three of them in. They were directed to the fourth-floor conference center. Peter, May and Dr. Loews entered the room offering an expansive view of Golden Gate park. Already seated at the table were the three doctors on his evaluation board. Dr. Morgan M’Benga, Chief Resident Psychiatrist at San Francisco General, Tena Grah’t, a Bolian if Peter remembered correctly and a member of the UFP Genetic Integrity Commission, one of the many regulatory bodies and Commander D’Val , a Vulcan instructor at the Medical Academy who had performed a mind meld as part of Peter’s assessment some two weeks ago.

That was an experience he was unprepared for, but the Doctor like all Starfleet personnel he met so far was a consummate professional. It felt like minutes, but apparently took approximately two hours. The Doctor searched through his memories, his life in Queens, Ned, MJ, Mr. Stark and the other Avengers. The doctor failed to remark on any of it, other than offering a single word assessment, “fascinating.”

May, Peter and Dr. Loews took their seats across from the board members.

“Let it be entered into record that on Stardate 50564, this board has reached a decision under the purview of Starfleet Medical regarding the case of human augment Peter Benjamin Parker. This board has taken into account the assessment of Dr. Loews at the UFP Institute of the Genetically Enhanced, the Department of Temporal Investigations, the Office of the District Attorney for Northern Europe and Doctor D’Val of the Startfleet Medical. Before we make our decision known do the parties concerned wish to enter anything else into the record?” Dr. M’Benga remaked.

Peter looked at his Aunt, who squeezed his hand and then at Dr. M’Benga, shaking his head. “No, ma’am.”

The doctor looked at him, “Very well,” she began “It is the decision of this board that Peter Benjamin Parker poses no danger to himself or others; furthermore, the office of the District Attorney has declined to file any charges relating to illegal genetic enhancement. It is therefore our decision to release Peter Parker from the custody of the UFPIGE to that of his guardian, May Parker until such time as he reaches the age of majority and to restore to him all rights and privileges of a citizen of the United Federation of Planets.”

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “A full report on the findings of this board and the office of the District Attorney will be entered into public record as per section seven clause two-one-four of the United Earth Criminal Code relating to genetic augmentation.” Peter didn’t know how he felt about his condition being available for public perusal, Dr. Loews pointed out it was a holdover from the early days of unified Earth government which had just seen itself out of the post-atomic horror.  
“If there is no further business, then I call this hearing adjourned, and dissolve the board.” Dr. M’Benga looked around, “Very well, thank you ladies and gentlemen. And congratulations Mr. Parker.” The board members rose from their seats and left Peter, May and Karen in the conference room.

May was holding onto her nephew, kissing the top of his head. Dr. Loews sighed in relief beside him.  
“Well, Peter, you’re free now.”

Peter looked at Dr. Loews, and pulled her into a hug “Thank you, for everything.”

“Peter, it’s been a singular pleasure getting to know you. Now, let’s go find that son of mine and properly celebrate.”

Exiting into the San Francisco afternoon, Peter felt a great weight of his shoulders and for once could take in his surroundings properly. Starfleet was an option now and Peter determined more than ever that one day he’d be wearing those uniforms. What he would pursue, well he’d think about it. He had time. 

**Simon Loews**

The room lit up as his environment dissolved into the familiar grid pattern of the inactive holo-suite. The voice of the proctor came over the comm intoned that the final round of examinations is complete. Engineering wasn’t his forte so the fundamentals of warp theory would always be the most difficult section of the exam, its why he scheduled it last.

Exiting the testing chamber, Simon allowed his eyes to adjust to daylight again. The doors on either side of him opened as well, revealing the rest of his testing group.

“Ahh, I think I screwed it up,” the despondent voice of the Caitiian, Simon thinks his name was Fossk, or Fessik or something like that? He was the type of person who needed to hear a name four or five times before it would finally sink in, “What about you guys?”

“Couldn’t tell you, I feel it could have gone either way for me,” the voice of Creta, a young Tellarite woman he’d traded complaints and insults with at the Quantum Café before his exam, “Ah well, if Starfleet doesn’t take me in, its their loss, right Simon?”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure they’ll be crying themselves to sleep over losing you,” Simon rolled his eyes. He liked being around Tellarites, being belligerent and insulting was the height of manners in their eyes, having that little pressure valve to release right before his exam did wonders.

“Because what Starfleet really needs is another human, clearly there’s not enough of those,” Creta snorted, “Speaking of, I’m gonna head to the Haight to drown my sorrows and ogle some of the upper-classmen. You guys in?”

Simon shrugged, “Nah, gotta meet my family, you guys have fun.”

“I’ll go,” Fizzzk? God, he sucked with names sometimes.

Creta nodded, “Sounds good Trask,” Trask! He wasn’t even close, “if you make it to the Academy Loews, look me up.”

“Later guys.” He exclaimed, waving and turning his back to them. Simon made his way to the presidio grounds. Now that the exams were over, and he was that one step closer to donning the uniform. He wonders if this is how his mom and dad felt.

His memories of his father seemed to grow fainter by the day, sometimes he can’t even remember what his voice sounded like until he played one of his old logs. His thoughts turned to Peter like they did most of these days. He knew that Peter lost something like three father figures, including his actual father. May said that Peter really was more Ben’s son than his Richard's.

Simon decided never to broach the topic of Tony Stark anymore after Peter reacted poorly from Simon calling him a monster who recruits child soldiers. That resulted in two of them stubbornly avoiding each other for days until May forced them to sit and talk to each other. Simon would never admit it out loud, but those few days without Peter were awful.

If he could be truthful with himself, Simon really enjoyed being a sort of guide to Peter and May to the twenty-fourth century. He would be poorer for not having known them, he thought to himself. It also didn’t help that his stomach did this funny flip whenever he made a joke that made Peter laugh, or when he saw the look of concern on Peter’s face after he was up for eighteen hours straight preparing for this exam.

Simon saw the group of them standing outside the examination center, chatting amiably, Peter dressed in more form fitting clothes than he usually wore around the institute. Banishing those thoughts, Simon approached them.

“So?” Simon interrupted the trio, “I’m guessing from the lack of long faces that everything went alright?”

Peter smiled, there were those pesky butterflies again, then he did the worst thing possible and pulled Simon into a hug. It felt right, like he didn’t belong anywhere else, damn these neurochemical responses.

“That good huh?” Simon asked, hjs voice breaking slightly.

“Yeah, that good. Your exam?”

“I think it went ok?” Simon was unsure, “Either way, I’m done until I find out. So what’s the plan for tonight?”

Karen and May looked at the two of them, “I think we’ll leave you two alone to celebrate, May introduced me to this twentieth century mystery program, I’m dying to finish the second season.”

That sounded suspicious to Simon. Well, a couple hours celebrating alone with Peter, he could get through that. Right?

“Happy binging!” Peter wished them, I’m sure it made sense to his anachronistic sensibilities, “Well, where do we go?”

Then Simon remembered, “Before we go anywhere, actually. I have something for you, you know to congratulate you, or lift your spirits if things went sideways.”

Simon reached into his bag for the small wrapped casing, handing it to Peter who looked at it with eyes wide.

“Well?”

Peter tore the wrapping over, revealing a mauve case with silver lining around the lip. Opening it up, an isolinear data rod lay inside.

“What is it?” Peter asked.

“Well, see I found this old training program that belonged to the police force on Farius Prime. It was used by their special forces to test a new grappling system they were implementing to counteract a series of cat burglaries that…,” Peter was looking at him with those stupid beautiful doe eyes, and he lost his train of thought, “Well anyway that doesn’t matter. What does matter is I’ve modified the program. It’s not your New York City, it’s ours before the bombs hit, but I managed to make a program that would allow you to web-sling around the city to your heart’s content.”

Peter eyes widened, looking at the rod reverently “Thank you.”

“I can’t wait to see you try, all those stories of you swinging through New York to rescue wayward kittens and punch wayward carjackers have fired up my imagination.”

The young men walked from the Presidio, through the city eventually making their way to the Embarcadero, inured in conversation about their respective trials during the day, eventually settling down at an outdoor bar by the waterfront.

“I’m no longer confined to Earth,” Peter mentioned.

“Yes? What brought that thought on.”

Peter looked down at his drink, “I have these weird limitless possibilities before me and for once I’m not sure what I want to do.”

Simon thought this was a good time to broach the topic, “Have you thought about Starfleet?”

“Yeah, its something I’ve been considering,” Peter mentioned, “Though I don’t know how May will take the idea of me joining the military.”

“It’s not really a military,” in an absurd twist of fate, just as he said those words armed Starfleet personnel started materializing on the street.

Peter raised his eyebrow, “Not really a military?”

This didn’t bode well; last time Simon had seen armed security officers on the street there was a full-blown changeling crisis. Martial law was declared, and everyone had been paranoid looking for shapeshifters beneath their couch cushions. He looked over inside the bar and noticed a scrum of patrons around a display screen.

“I don’t know, but I think that may have something to do with it,” Simon pointed over to the crowd. 

The voice on the screen belonged to a Cardassian, “You might ask, should we fear joining the Dominion? And I answer you: Not in the least. We should embrace the opportunity. The Dominion recognizes us for what we are, the true leaders of the Alpha Quadrant.”

Peter whispered, “who is that?”

“Gul Dukat. He used to be prefect of Bajor during the occupation,” Simon had read enough about the atrocities committed under this man’s purview. 

Around them the speech continued, “_And now that we are joined together, equal partners in all endeavors, the only people with anything to fear will be our enemies. My oldest son's birthday is in five days. To him, and to Cardassians everywhere, I make the following pledge: By the time his birthday dawns, there will not be a single Klingon alive inside Cardassian territory. Or a single Maquis colony left within our borders._” 

The line about the Maquis elicited gasps and murmurs from the crowd, even though they were technically outlaws they had many sympathizers in the Federation, “_Cardassia will be made whole, all that we have lost will be ours again. And anyone who stands in our way will be destroyed. This I vow with my life's blood, for my son, for all our sons._”

The Cardassian on screen was replaced by a Deltan Newscaster, “_If you’re just joining us, we can now report that the Cardassian Union has formally joined The Dominion, giving the Gamma Quadrant power a foothold in the Alpha Quadrant, Starfleet Security has reported a buildup of Cardassian and Dominion vessels near the demilitarized zone._”

The previously jovial atmosphere of the evening was replaced by a much more sombre one, the crowd was deathly silent listening to the newscast, “President Inyo is due to make a statement, for now all Stafleet vessels and installations have been placed on Yellow Alert…” the newscaster continued reading as Peter and Simon returned to their seats.

Simon stared blankly at his drink, “well, that’s one way to ruin a night.”

Peter chuckled, “What do you think, continue on or go join May and Karen in their Twin Peaks marathon?” 

Simon looked out on to the bay, deciding he wanted nothing more than to be with family tonight.


	7. Chapter 2, Part 2

** Chapter 2, Part 2  
Peter Parker, Stardate 50607 (August 10, 2373) **

Peter remembered his first trip to the holosuite. He was assured that he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a real environment and a holographic one. He spent the first few minutes of a paused program feeling the solidity of buildings, the warmth of holographic people, the feeling of wind on his face.

In the days following Cardassia joining the Dominion, the anxiety and tension of everyone around him was thick enough to cut with a knife. Everyone breathed a small sigh of relief when war did not outright break out, but nobody had any illusions that it was anything but inevitable. The first time he broached the topic of joining Starfleet with May nearly broke down in tears, begging him not to ride off into space to die, again. It took some time to calm her, Peter spent the night with his Aunt, going through some of the mission reports from the more exploration and science-based missions. 

Simon was subsumed in preparation for starting his term at the academy, so much so that he was practically invisible the last few weeks. So Peter spent his time volunteering at the institute. All the talk at the institute was about the chief medical officer of Deep Space Nine who had been outed as genetically enhanced while part of some holography study.

Karen was in correspondence with Bashir, trying to arrange a trip to the station for Jack, Lauren, Patrick and Sarina. It was her hope that the doctor could provide insight into how to help the foursome integrate into society, maybe one day free them up from the institute. Peter visited when he could, and Lauren and the rest took their time to help Peter navigate the various bureaucratic hoops he would have to navigate to have even an opportunity to apply for Starfleet.

Now he found himself here, on his 17th (biological) birthday, though Simon wasted no opportunity to remind Peter that he looked great for a 372-year-old. His gift had gone unused for ages, and now he was standing on top of the flatiron building. Still wearing his civilian clothes but donning a new set of web-shooters. He knew that swinging around an actual city would end up with him getting beamed, or even more embarrassingly tractored to the nearest precinct. This would have to do.

Taking the plunge, he could swear he was back home, or a version of it. The feeling of the air rushing past his body, Peter used his muscle memory to shoot a web at an adjoining building and gracefully launch himself forward.

The exhilaration felt every bit as real as it did when he was going through the city. The holographic pedestrians and motorists gaped up at young man flying through the city. Simon mentioned the program was an amalgamation of a police training scenario and a detective holo-novel. While the New Yorkers of his time would pay no mind to the web-slinger, the people this was based on never saw anything like him.

Peter let out a whoop as he was propelled further down 5th avenue, swooping closer to the ground, flipping and twirling to avoid traffic. He was glad that the people of this time didn’t struggle in poverty, never feeling the desperation that would lead them to try and rob a bodega or steal a vehicle. Peter always felt some minor guilt in stopping the pettier, hard luck cases. What he did miss though was the surge of adrenaline he’d feel when dodging a crowbar, or a bullet. When taking down a major drug deal, or even when he fought lunatics like the Vulture. He missed the feeling of being able to help the scared, trapped and hapless victims that would pop under his senses. He missed feeling like he’d made a difference; a feeling had been conspicuously absent the last few months.

Swinging wildly through the concrete jungle felt like freedom to him. Taking a turn towards the Hell’s Kitchen and the Upper West Side, Peter reveled in his environment. Spotting a familiar face on the ground he made a swan-dive before landing gracefully.

“Can you land like that without the holodeck safeties on?” Simon’s first line of inquiry.

“Pretty much, why?”

“If I’d tried it I’d just end up a pile of bones and goo on the ground.” 

“I wouldn’t recommend it unless you’ve got a radioactive gene altering spider handy,” Peter quipped.

Simon grunted, eliciting a ”What?” from Peter.

“Nothing, it’s just you complain about your ‘Parker luck’ but the one time I got bit by a spider all I got for my trouble was a swelling on my wrist and a hospital visit.”

Peter grinned, “Well, you gonna hop on?”

Simon looked around, as if he was expecting someone to see him, but it was just the two of them in the holodeck. “Alright, let’s do this, even if it is supremely undignified.”

Simon was by no means a small person, sitting at 180 cm, and 70 kg he looked about the same size as Peter. If their positions were reversed, he could give a piggy back ride. Not difficult, but not able to do what they were about to. To Peter, Simon weighed no more than an empty backpack, so when he felt the other boy’s arms wrap around his collar, it took almost no effort to launch himself in the air, and start swinging along the Hudson before taking a turn towards Central Park.

Simon hung on tightly, exclaiming every time they dropped and accelerated, and captivated by the speed at which the buildings were whizzing past them. As they sailed past the American Natural History museum, Peter guided them to a gentle landing in the park.

Simon let go, and immediately dropped to the ground, “Holy shit.”

Peter reached out to lend a hand, lifting Simon up on his feet, but holding on a bit long. He could see a small blush creep up on Simon’s face, and couldn’t help but grin, “Live up to your expectations?”

“More than that. You did this every day for how many years?”

“Two or three years, give or take. Although usually I’d end up finding some situation that required my intervention, so I rarely had an uninterrupted flight like that.”

Simon looked at him, with a hint of admiration, “You’re a real goddamn hero, aren’t you Parker.”

“I did my best,” Now it was Peter’s turn to blush.

The twosome continued walking through the park, taking in the sights, “New York’s a bit more crowded in this time?”  
“Yeah, I can’t imagine the thought of the entire city having been leveled, I mean I was there a few months ago.”

“Well, you weren’t ‘there’ there,” Simon mentioned, “and there’s no guarantee that your New York will suffer the same fate as ours.”

“No, but it probably is suffering right now,” Peter remarked thinking back on Thanos’ attack, “Or will have suffered, or whatever. Time travel really screws with your tenses.”

Simon placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You miss your home,”

“Yeah,” Peter remarked, “I mean at least whatever power brought me here also brought May, for which I’m thankful, but I still wish I was there….not that I’m ungrateful or anything,” Peter’s babbling was interrupted by Simon pulling him into a hug.

Letting go, he looked Peter in the eye before motioning with his head, “Come on, tell me all about your city, I’m not much of a 20th or 21st century buff.”

As they walked, Peter launched into a spiel about growing up in New York, of Ned, and MJ, stressing out about Academic Decathlon while balancing his responsibilities as Spider-man, of Tony Stark and his internship, and more importantly mentorship. Simon conceded to Peter that he had a grudging admiration of the man, or ‘about as much admiration as I can muster for a former arms dealer who blackmails children to fight for him.’

Peter had to admit, with the benefit of time and space some of Tony’s decisions were definitely not on the up and up, but that did not diminish his memory or respect of the man. As they were coming up on the Upper East Side, their environment dissolved into the hologrid.

_”Your time has expired,” _ the computer intoned as the exit opened. 

Peter’s face dropped a little, enough for Simon to perceive anyway as he affectionately bumped Peter’s shoulder. The two of them left the holo-suite center into the more modern, but less hectic New York landscape. Simon had moved his belongings to his new home in San Francisco, weeks away from starting at the Academy.

Peter obliged Simon in inviting his friend T’Lara, as she would be visiting her grand-mother at the Starfleet Headquarters for a few days before returning home to Vulcan. They agreed to meet his friend outside of Peter’s favorite deli, which had existed in one incarnation or another for over four hundred years. 

Peter laid eyes on the young Vulcan standing in front of the store. She looked at Simon with the same imperious look Peter had seen on Vulcans, “It is most agreeable to see you again, Simon.”

Simon grinned, “Love you too, Tee,” before motioning to Peter, “Peter, T’Lara, T’Lara Peter.”

“Hi,” Peter added sheepishly, he always felt weirdly judged when he was around what few Vulcans he’d encountered so far.

T’Lara bowed her head slightly, “Greetings.”

The trio went in, the first time Peter had been back since May had found him. Ordering his number five, he went through a laborious explanation of the various options that he was familiar with. Being Vulcan, T’Lara avoided meats, trying the eggplant parmesan sandwich and looking a little taken aback at the greasiness of the parchment paper.  
Simon opted to follow Peter’s order, and his eyes widened as he bit into the delicious pastrami. 

“Good huh?”

Simon hummed with a mouth full of food, while T’Lara looked at him with slightly concealed distatste. Simon told Peter ahead of time, that befriending a Vulcan is a bit different and that they barely tolerate human habits. 

“How’s yours T’Lara?” Peter ventued to ask.

“It is…tolerable,” She replied.

“That’s pretty high praise for human food from a Vulcan, Pete,” Simon managed to utter through a mouth full of food.  
“What are you studying at the Science Academy?” Peter asked.

T’Lara launched into a long explanation about her studies on the neurochemical effects of prolonged use of telepathy on non-telepathic species. Peter was utterly fascinated, not only that telepathy was now a fact of life, so much so that it had spawned a whole new branch of neuroscience.

“So, what’s Vulcan like?” Peter segued the topic.

“Disgustingly hot,” Simon interrupted.

“It’s a world spanning, unlike Earth,” T’Lara expanded on Simon’s point, “ but beyond generalities like that, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Did you grow up there?”

“Briefly, I spent my formative years on Earth, most of my family being employed at Starfleet Command.”

“Yeah, we’ve known each other since we were what, six?” 

“Seven,” T’Lara corrected, “Most human children do not form bonds with Vulcans, they don’t have the requisite discipline, and to our detriment we do not have the patience.”

Peter asked, “Simon was different?”

“Simon was….persistent,” T’Lara was doing her utmost to be polite.

“I was a stubborn ass, but I wore you down eventually.”

The three of them went into a back and forth. Peter told them of his friends, Ned, MJ, Betty Brant and Harry Osborn who had moved away when he was a child. Simon had not informed T’Lara of Peter’s ‘special circumstances’, and Peter appreciated the respect for his privacy but decided nonetheless to tell T’Lara most of what Simon knew.  
“Fascinating, and difficult to believe, but I’ve never known Simon to embellish.”

“Lying to Vulcans is pointless anyway, they don’t need to mind meld to tell if you’re being less than truthful,” Simon added.

The conversation continued as the sun set over the city, “We should probably get back to May soon. You’re invited too T’Lara if you want.”

“I would not wish to intrude,” T’Lara replied.

“You absolutely would not,” Peter added.

“Come on Tee, Peter’s mom has the most interesting collection of 20th century television broadcasts,” Simon added, “You think humans are strange and illogical now, wait until you see what we were like back then.”

T’Lara raised an eyebrow, “I am fascinated about Humans during their technological infancy, especially how quickly they recovered from a planet-wide catastrophe.” 

“Oh?”

“Vulcan took centuries after the Time of the Awakening to develop Warp Drive,” T’Lara went into a long explanation of comparative human and Vulcan history which Peter found endlessly fascinating. His only real experience with aliens had been the few he’d met here, the weirdos with whom he’d fought Thanos, Thanos himself and the Chitauri invasion.  
Making their way to their Brooklyn apartment, May opened the door, greeting them warmly and even pulling in a visibly uncomfortable T’Lara into a hug.

Simon discreetly pulled her aside, and informed her tactile contact was considered a very intimate thing among Vulcans. May apologized profusely, but T’Lara informed her having spent most of her life on Earth has gotten her used to Human emotional expression, for the most part.

Peter commented that since she got a replicator May’s meals have never been better, explaining to the group what a disaster at cooking the both of them happened to be. Conversation bled into the night, as did the drinks. 

“…So there I was, seeing this weird vigilante I’ve spotted on the news sauntering around my nephew’s room. I’m getting ready to call the police when this one,” she said, pointing at Peter, “unmasks himself.”

Simon laughed, and T’Lara commented, “He placed great importance on keeping his identity secret, yet he just freely walked around in his costume with the door open?”

May smiled, “Peter, for all his qualities was never one for subtlety or foresight. But me? I was furious.” 

Peter commented “I’ve faced hardened criminals, and interstellar despots. I’ve never come closer to soiling myself in fear than that moment.” 

“I was feeling rather murderous, but not towards Peter, no.”

Simon asked, “That Stark fellow?”

“Yeah, I was getting ready to storm that tower, all 140 pounds soaking wet of me, against Iron Man who’d fought off alien invasions and diverted missiles single handedly.”

Peter spoke up, “You terrified him, May. He told me that once.”

“Well, good. Someone had to put the fear of god into him after that nonsense in Leipzig.”

Peter flushed in embarrassment, “The alternating path between your two Earth histories is fascinating, that in one timeline enhanced humans would act in such contrast to another reality. What could have been the defining moment that fostered such divergence?”

“Oh that’s easy,” May answered, “the first ‘metahuman’ as you called him Steve Rogers fought in the Second World War. Even beyond his abilities he embodied what was best in all of us.”

“My late uncle, Ben would always tell me stories about the man. Then I got to meet him, although the circumstances weren’t good.”

“Yeah, you told me about that, the airport thing. Still, he must have been ancient by that point,” Simon responded.  
Peter replied, “Oh, he disappeared for a time, from what I understand is he was cryogenically suspended. Tony called him capsicle, as a joke.”

“Capsicle?” The Vulcan woman replied.

“A play on popsicles, which are frozen treats, and his alias ‘Captain America’,” May helpfully added.

Dishes were strewn over the coffee table, as T’Lara looked at her chronometer, “Well, this has been a most intriguing evening. Thank you, both.”

“I’ll show you to the transporter,” Peter offered.

“Will you stay Simon? I can have an extra bed prepared.”

“No, I don’t want to impose,” Simon said abashed.

“Nonsense, come on I’ll get it ready.”

“Then at least let me help with the dishes,” Simon offered.

Peter followed T’Lara out of the building, finding their way to the transporter pad. 

“Here we are,” Peter offered.

“Indeed. It has been most agreeable to get to know you Peter.”

“You too, don’t be a stranger next time you’re on Earth,” Peter replied.

The Vulcan raised her hand in the customary salute of her people, “Peace and long life, to both you and your Aunt.”  
“Live long and prosper, T’Lara,” Peter remembered the reply from his sessions with D’Val at Starfleet Medical. He watched the Vulcan woman enter the terminal and dematerialize.

Peter returned home to find Simon having cleared all the dishes, wiping down the coffee table and looking up at Peter. May entered the living room, giving Peter a hug and a quick peck on the forehead, “Happy Birthday, Pete. I’m going to turn in for the night” 

Peter smiled back, the day had been good, easily forgetting the tension filled last few weeks, “Don’t stay up too late?” Peter asked anticipating May’s next question.

She rolled her eyes, patted his cheek and said “Stay up as long as you want, it’s your birthday,” before releasing him and moving to her room.

Simon had moved to the balcony, overlooking the east river and Manhattan’s lights under a full moon. Peter joined beside him, “I can see why you like T’Lara.”

Simon grinned, “Of course you can, I have very discerning taste and excellent judgement.”  
Peter rolled his eyes, “Well, of course you do, you befriended me after all.”

Simon and Peter looked at each other seriously, before dissolving in guffaws. Calming down, Peter commented, “I’ll miss you when you’re busy at the academy.”

“It’ll be only one year before you enroll yourself.”

Peter hummed skeptically, Simon responded before his next round of self-pity “They’d have to be idiots not to accept you.” 

“Thanks,” Peter responded quietly, “Still, May’s not too keen on it, especially with this Dominion nonsense looming over us.”

“No kidding. I’m not that keen to go to war myself, I want to join Starfleet to explore the galaxy not to get skewered by a Jem’Hadar soldier defending some communications relay in the ass end of nowhere.”

Peter’s stomach dropped at the thought, if there was any reason to join, making sure that Simon comes out of whatever is coming unscathed would number among the reasons. Reading about the various threats the Federation has faced made Peter think how lucky it was to continue existing, especially when their primary defense force saw defense as a secondary concern.

Peter looked out at the city in front of him. It didn’t feel exactly like home, not yet. Some part of him still wondered if one day he’d wake up to find Tony looking over him, telling him he’d scoured the multiverse to find him. It was a childish thought, and besides he’d found people here he’d grown fond of, and it helped that May came along for the ride. 

No doubt she missed their home too, but they also no longer struggled living paycheck to paycheck. Food insecurity was a thing of the past; there weren’t any more nights where they were scraping together the last remnants of their fridge into some disgusting casserole. Others thought Peter was oblivious, but he didn’t fail to miss the gradual disappearance of stress lines around her face, of the joy she got in doing her job without worrying about begging for extra hours so they could make rent.

Sensing something, Simon asked “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Peter replied, pausing and then continuing, “Well that’s a lie.”

“I was about to say.”

“No, I’m just thinking about how all of the remnants of my old life seemed to be disappearing form memory. Weird simple things, like the sound of my friend Ned’s voice, or the route I’d take to and from school every-day. I think fondly on those things, but for the first time I find I’m not missing them, like they’re some gaping hole. You get my meaning?”

“No, no I get it. When my dad died, I was inconsolable. Eventually I found I missed him less and less, and then I started forgetting small details about him. It disturbed me at first, especially since they never found his body, but then I thought as long as I remember the good moments from our lives, those trifling details don’t matter.”

“Yeah…”

A few brief moments passed, “I don’t know about you but I’m beat,” Simon said.

“Yeah, let’s turn in. Get breakfast tomorrow before you leave,” The two of them entered the apartment, Peter shuttering the shades before going to the washroom for his nightly ablutions.

The normally king sized bed in Peter’s room separated into two twin beds, and Simon was already hunkered down in his, reviewing a PADD. Peter jumped in his own bed, slipping the covers over himself, and shuttering his eyes. The lights in the room dimmed.

“Night, Pete.”

“Night, man,” Peter responded. 

The last thoughts before unconsciousness took him were how the few moments alone he had with Simon felt right, like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

___________________

When Peter came to, he wasn’t greeted by the relative quiet of his room, compounded by Simon’s breathing. There was a low thrum surrounding him, but he was enveloped in complete darkness. He got up from the cot he was lying in, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. 

On his right was a large window, overlooking the Earth. He was in space. Immediately his Spidey-sense started acting up, and his fight or flight instincts kicked in. Frantically looking for an out, he shuffled against the wall, looking for a door or any other kind of weakness to exploit.

A dull voice came out over a comm system “_ Mr. Parker, please do not panic, someone will be with you momentarily to explain everything. _”

Peter was having none of it, “Where am I? What did you do with May and Simon.”

“_ Your friends and family are unharmed, and are in no danger from us. Neither are you for that matter,_” just as the disembodied voice stopped speaking a door opened on the opposite side. Peter was ready to strike, if worse came to worst, until he saw the figure standing in the doorway. 

Recognition flooded him as he remembered the face he would see whenever he checked into the Institute for the night. Teyla, the young Starfleet officer assigned to man security in the facility, only she wasn’t in her standard issue Starfleet uniform, instead wearing all black. Nothing good came from people who wore all black…well except for the Black Widow….and Hawkeye, and most SHIELD agents. Okay, Peter thought, maybe he shouldn’t judge someone based on seemingly ominous attire.

“I know you,” Peter.

The young Orion woman grinned back, “Of course you do.”

“Where are we?”

Teyla looked around, “We are aboard the USS Lakota, second to bear that name. She hasn’t been commissioned yet, this is why you can see the orbital dry dock still around us. It was a nice, quiet place for us to converse.”  
“You kidnapped me to show me a new ship?” Peter’s hackles were raised.

“Kidnapping is a harsh term,” Teyla continued, “but apt, in this case.”

“Why?”

She motioned for a table in the adjoining living quarters; Peter took a seat while she went over to the replicator, “Anything to drink?”

“No, tell me why I’m here!”

“Patience, don’t worry you’ll be returned home before anyone’s the wiser.”

It calmed him down slightly, before Teyla continued, “Tell me, Mr. Parker. What do you think of the Federation?”

“Huh?”

“An honest assessment, please,” She asked as she placed two cups of tea between herself and Peter. 

Peter had to think about it for a moment, “It’s pretty idyllic, since I’ve come here I’ve wanted for nothing and have been treated extremely well, this kidnapping aside.”

“Yes, well. Please continue.”

Peter dug deep, “It seems hopelessly naïve. I mean, no offense, but reading about all the hostile powers surrounding the Federation, and the way Starfleet operates, something doesn’t add up.”

Teyla sipped her tea, “Impressive. Most people take what they see at face value. They believe that Starfleet is a wholly above board organization. How can it be though, think of the machinations of the Founders who nearly brought down our government in a coup, or the centuries long Cold War between the Federation and the Romulan Empire. Something has to be working in the shadows to ensure its continued survival.”

Peter looked at her askance, “And what, you want my help uncovering what that is?”

Teyla looked taken aback at the suggestion, and let out a high laugh, “Oh my no, Peter. No, quite the contrary. Peter for as long as the Federation, and United Earth before it has existed, we’ve been there, watching and acting when appropriate.”

“And what, you want me to work for you as some kind of spy?”

“Not exactly,” she said as she placed a conical object and pressed a series of controls. The image of Peter swinging through the holographic representation of New York materialized.

“You are in possession of some great talents, but more than that you have a keen intellect and moral clarity.”  
“And you want me to join you? Whoever you are?”

Teyla looked at him, “Not yet. Around two hundred years ago, the original Starfleet Charter, specifically Article 14, Section 31 allowed for extraordinary measures to be employed by Starfleet officers against existential threats. In fact, that is what we’re named after, Section 31,” she sauntered over to the window, the view overlooking Papua New Guinea and Australia, “We exist at the periphery, there is no headquarters, we do not have a fleet. Very rarely do we come into contact with other operatives, but we’re everywhere in the Federation, both civilian and Starfleet, and our vigilance is constant. “

Peter followed behind her, “If you don’t want me to join right now, what is it you want?”

“Well, you’re interested in pursuing a career in Starfleet,” Peter nodded, “Good, Starfleet could use good men and women in the coming days. Throughout your career, we may occasionally ask you to put your talents to use in service of the Federation. Sometimes that service would involve things which career Starfleet officers may find distasteful, or reckless.”

Peter wondered what tasks that may involve, Teyla continued “Mr. Parker, think of us as sanitation workers. We do the jobs nobody else has the stomach for, in order to maintain the health of the public body, that body being the Federation in this case.”

“And if I don’t want to do whatever you ask?”

“Then we’ll leave you alone, find other means and resources.”

Peter looked at looked out the window, quietly admiring the blue marble he calls his home. For the first time the Federation’s continued existence made some semblance of sense, and when he actually thought about it, he did want to preserve his new home. Still he felt some trepidation, so he asked, “What made you join?”

Teyla looked pensieve, “I don’t often get asked that. If you want to know, I was rescued from slavery as a young girl by a Starfleet crew. The Federation gave me a home, gave me a family and something to believe in. As an Orion I was also aware how the galaxy really operated, most Feddies live very sheltered lives. One day, an operative approached me, just like I am approaching you right now, and gave me the opportunity to make a difference.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

Peter knew his answer would depend on her response, “No, not really. I’ve long since made peace with who I am and what I do. I know what awaits me should the Federation fall.”

Peter had some idea too, he still had nightmares of Titan and Thanos. He wondered what his Earth as part of a vast cooperative interstellar nation like the Federation could have done to stop the warlord from vanishing half of all life in the universe, probably more than the Avengers could have. As good as they were, their group was small and their influence and power was limited. 

He would not let anything happen to May, or to Simon and Karen, Lauren, Sarina, Patrick; hell even Jack. Peter looked at Teyla, “I can’t promise anything now, but I’ll think on it.”

She smiled at him, “That’s all we ask,” she said leaning against the bulkhead, “from what little time I’ve known you Peter, I know you’d be an asset to Starfleet, whether or not you choose to join our organization. So please don’t let this meeting color that decision at least.”

Peter nodded, “I can do that.”

She proffered her hand, Peter grasping back “I look forward to seeing the heights you will undoubtedly reach, Mr. Parker.” 

As soon as he let go of her hand, the blue light of a transporter washed over him and he was standing on the street in front of his Brooklyn apartment.


	8. Chapter 2, Part 3

** Chapter 2, Part 3  
Peter Parker, Stardate 50893 (November 11, 2373) **

For the past few months it seemed that everything was going somewhat smoothly. The threat of the Dominion, while ever present receded in people’s minds. A sense of normalcy returned, and the streets of New York didn’t feel like a single match was about to set off a firestorm anymore.

With the help of Lauren, Patrick, Sarina, and even Jack, Peter spent the last few months catching up on four centuries worth of secondary education. His accelerated study would result, hopefully, in him being ready to take on the Starfleet entrance exams, and entering the Academy during next year. 

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Peter to hop back and forth between Denmark to work with the Jack Pack as they’d named themselves, his home in Brooklyn with May and San Francisco to visit Simon. He’d even taken time traveling the Earth, picking a city every so often for a day trip, spending two weeks in October with May hiking through the Hindu Kush. Financial constraints did not exist, and no part of the Earth was unsafe and off-limits.

He hadn’t traveled to space since his unscheduled trip aboard the Lakota. Since then, Teyla seemed to disappear; the only excuse given was a reassignment. Peter decided not to divulge his midnight odyssey to anyone, out of concern for the safety of his family and friends should they find out the Federation was secretly kept safe by a shadowy cabal.

All in all, it seemed that life had returned to some semblance of normalcy, something Peter didn’t know he missed since his life could hardly be called normal after the bite. Today was different. If everyone was nervous during the Dominion crisis earlier this year, they were outright panicking now.

Klaxons blared over loudspeakers, and the voice of the standard Starfleet computer systems was on repeat, “_Borg incursion reported in Sector Zero-Zero-One, Residents are advised to shelter in place until further notice,” and on and on it went_.  
Peter and May had been out, enjoying a quiet afternoon in town when the warning sirens began to blare. In the past, situations like this resulted in Peter donning his suit, and jumping headfirst into the fight. What could he do here, he was powerless. If anything solidified his commitment to join Starfleet, it was the feeling of utter helplessness, sheltering in a café with May and some scared strangers, wishing he could be with the rest of his friends, the Jack Pack, Karen, and Simon. 

Gods, Simon and Karen, he remembered, lost their father and husband to the last Borg attack which claimed something, like eleven thousand lives. Peter had read up on this inimitable foe of the Federation. The idea of being assimilated and turned into some half-mechanical abomination and being deprived of your individuality terrified Peter more than death.

The newscast showing the footage of the imposing cube shaped vessel fighting the dozens of smaller Starfleet ships was all anyone had eyes on. May was clutching his hands tightly as they watched the fleet engage the Borg.

The news reporter was commentating on the various vessels attacking, which ones were being taken out of the fight like some deranged sports match. The telltale flashes of ships warping into the system to join the fight did not seem to have any effect on the cube as it made brute forced its way ever closer to Earth.

Peter thought to himself, what options he had. No doubt some evacuation plan was in place should the worse happen, and he would not let himself separate from his Aunt.

A gasp broke out through the room as the Admiral Hayes’ flagship went up in a bright flash, some small escape craft could be seen departing from the wreck. Peter felt his stomach drop, the sound of the automated voice still blaring its warning in the background.

The newscast panned to an elongated, sleek looking vessel. The USS Enteprise, NCC 1701-E, whose legendary crew had been responsible for stopping the previous Borg incursion. The anchor was reporting that Captain Jean-Luc Picard had taken command of the fleet. 

The Armada started to concentrate all firepower on a single section of the cube, and that seemed to do the trick as the structure started falling apart in a series of green tinted explosions.

Peter noticed May’s knuckles were white, her grip would no doubt be painful to someone not imbued with genetic super-strength. A sigh of relief escaped him, and tension seemed to bleed out of the room. For a brief moment, he lost focus and his stomach lurched, but then quickly came to himself again, an odd feeling.

“Let’s get home Pete,” May said subdued, Peter didn’t argue He reminding himself to check on Simon when they got home.

**Simon Loews**

The all clear signal was given. Simon had already missed his Introductory Warp Mechanics lecture, and he had no desire to sit in on any other class today. All he wanted to do is drown his sorrows in a bottle of Aldebaran Whiskey. 

He wasn’t much of a drinker. When that first swig went down his throat it burned so hard he coughed it all up. By the second drink his throat had numbed somewhat. By the fourth pure apathy had settled in. He wanted to hate the Borg, but how could he? It’s like swearing revenge against a hurricane, absurd.

By the time he downed more than half the bottle he couldn’t do any more. His communicator was going off, incessantly, choosing to ignore it, and keep his head firmly on his pillow as he stared at the ceiling listlessly.

He didn’t want to think about his father, or everyone else who died at Wolf 359. He didn’t want to think about how lucky they were to survive two incursions, how all the Borg would need to do to utterly defeat them is send more than one cube. 

So here he was, bottle in hand. Ignoring the knocking at the door, ignoring the communicator’s constant noise, ignoring the throbbing headache, he tried to close his eyes and shut himself off from the world. 

Whoever was at the door, overrode the security controls, sliding open to reveal the face of his mother, and a familiar tuft of hair behind her.

_Shit_, he didn’t need this today.

“…go ‘way” He managed to slur, his senses dulled by the drink all he could make out was frantic conversation before the world went dead around him.  
______________

He didn’t know how much time had passed. All he knew was that it felt like his senses had been dialed to eleven, his mouth felt like it was full of cotton and his head was pounding.

“…urgh,” he muttered trying his best to open his eyes in a way that would not exacerbate the pain he was going through right now. He heard shuffling from the nearby lounge chair. Cracking his eyes open barely, he could make out Peter’s face coming out of its own, more restful slumber.

It’s really all he needed right now, that walking talking guilt trip. Before he knew it, Peter was at his bedside with a glass of water and pills, “Karen said for you to take these, she had to go help with the recovery efforts,” Simon was trussed up one elbow, looking at Peter’s offering of sweet relief, “ she also told me to tell you, ‘you’re lucky I’m the one who found you and not the superintendent, we’ll have words.’” 

Simon was wrong, he was lucky to have been woken up by Peter, not his mother. Maybe a few hours of trauma care will dull her anger. The pills and water went down, and in an instant the giant bell in his head stopped ringing.  
Simon was nothing if not grateful, “Thanks Pete,” he rasped as he let his head fall back on the pillow, which did not have the most pleasant smell.

“I won’t ask you the obvious question of how you’re doing,” Peter said.

“Appreciate it,” Simon rejoined, feeling gracious he conceded, “feel like dog shit on a crime scene.”

“I have some experience with that,” Peter chuckled, “should let you know that all classes, drills and other activities are cancelled so you have the day to recover. Your mom confiscated all your booze, unfortunately.”  
Simon sighed, “you’re not seeing me at my best here Parker.”

“S’allright, I’ve seen a lot worse,” Simon could imagine some of the things a 21st century crime fighter encountered on a regular basis.

Simon wanted to take his mind off the attack, so he asked, “like what?”

Peter went into the litany of vagrants, addicts, and generally down on their luck people he encountered during his patrols. He recounted how seeing families living out of vehicles did more to destroy his morale than any weirdo in a bird costume trying to sell illegal weapons because he was completely powerless to help stop the former.

“What about your friend, Stark?”

“Huh?”

“You mentioned his obscene wealth, he wasn’t powerless, did he do anything?”

Peter had to think about it, Tony did like to mention his philanthropy, often, “He gave a lot, but usually to fund STEM education, or some museums somewhere, the odd hospital. He came from a privileged background; he really had no clue about the struggles of normal people. More often than not this ended up creating villains like Toomes, the guy selling alien weaponry….not that Tony’s personally responsible for the bad choices other people make.”

Simon thought that it was probably the most honest thing Peter had ever said about Tony Stark, he decided to forgo the lecture and simply say, “So he was human, flawed like the rest of us.”

Peter chuckled, “Oh yeah, he’d be the first to admit to some of his worst mistakes.”

Then Peter broached the subject, “What about your dad?”

“What about him?” Simon really didn’t want to bring it up.

“Well, this whole episode here, it’s because the Borg killed him, right?”

“Yeah,” came the stilted answer.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been told enough times but bottling these feelings up isn’t healthy, it leads to…well , this.”

“You’ve been around my mom too long.”

“I had no choice in the matter, really. But she helped, a lot.”

Simon sighed, “I really don’t know how I feel. It’s normal to want vengeance, but how can I feel vengeful or angry when the people that murdered my father had no choice in the matter and were as much victims as he was.”

“So you decided to take it out on yourself?”

Silence filled the room, “Did I ever tell you how my uncle died?”

“No.”

“It wasn’t long after I was bitten by the spider, and I was a cocky little shit. I joined a sort of underground fight club to earn some easy money, when I won my matches and went to collect my winnings, the guy running the ring ripped me off. A few minutes later I witnessed him getting robbed, and did nothing to help.”

Simon sat up on the bed, looking at Peter who was staring down at his lap. He had a feeling where this story was going, “I left, fuming. I went swinging around the city when I spotted my uncle, lying prone in a pool of his own blood. Found out that the guy who robbed the fighting ring was the one who shot him.”

Simon looked at Peter, “You know, it wasn’t your fault right?”

Peter smiled sadly, “It took me a long time to acknowledge that.”

At that moment Simon understood, and pulled Peter into a hug, uttering a quiet “Thank you.”

Simon let go, “let me freshen up, I’ll show you around the academy.”

“Sure, but are you going to be okay?”

Simon thought for a moment, “eventually.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The grounds of the academy were mostly empty, except for the two of them and the odd cadet walking about. Simon and Peter were deep in conversation, “Oh, I’m just surprised that the groundskeeping hasn’t been completely automated right now,” Peter said.

“Hmm maybe, but Boothby is as much an institution as the academy itself, I can’t imagine the grounds without him tending them.”

Peter decided to confide in Simon, “So, I have something to admit.”

“Huh?”

Peter went into the details of his visit by the former security officer manning the institute. The idea of Section 31 greatly disturbed Simon, but it made a sort of sick sense.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, I mean if I don’t take their offer it’ll be something hanging over my head for as long as I’m serving, right? Wondering what they’re doing in the shadows, which of my missions are being secretly directed by some shadowy organization.”

“If you ask me, don’t reject their offer. See what they’re really about, and if it’s something really sinister, document it and bide your time, then expose them when the opportunity presents itself.”

Peter’s brows raised in surprise, his high-pitched voice subdued in near whisper, “You’d be fine with that, just exposing them like that.”

Simon looked at him strangely, “Why not, if Section 31 is anything like you describe it, they’re probably violating any number of statutes, treaties, not to mention the Federation Charter.”

Peter had a thought of the months following his birth, people being remanded into black sites across the planet to support some nebulous war on terror, or a fascist organization like HYDRA infiltrating SHIELD. He’d keep an open mind, but not so much that his brains fell out.

“I think you’re right, better to keep an eye on them.”

“Right,” Simon replied, “but you don’t need to worry about anything a long time, so don't get hung up on it.”

They continued walking in companionable silence before Simon added, “Of course, you know, you can’t tell this to just anyone, right Pete?”

Peter looked at him, Simon continued, “I’m glad you feel you can trust me with this. But be careful who you talk to about any of this.”

Peter looked almost insulted, “I’m not an idiot you know.”

“Not saying you are, just please, be careful.”

As they walked through the grounds, a group of cadets ran past them in formation, a sour look appeared on Simon’s face.

“What’s that about?”

“Ugh, nothing you’ll have to worry about. Red Squad, Leyton’s little pack of fascists. They’re being put on a yearlong field assignment, so they won’t be around when you get here.”

“Who?”

“Leyton was an Admiral who attempted a coup on the Federation president a few months before you came here,” Simon continued, “And Red Squad were his personal lackeys, ‘an elite group of cadets’ who were fucked around with Earth’s power grid, and were only reprimanded for it.”

“You sound a little bitter about that.”

“They’ve always been seen as the best the academy has to offer, it’s probably why they weren’t cashiered out of the service or imprisoned like their patron. You’re damn right I’m still bitter about seeing them traipsing around here. You weren’t here for the so called ‘changeling crisis’ Peter, it was absolute pandemonium.”

“Ok, watch out for this Red Squad then, got it.”

Simon grunted, “Good, people still treat them as if their shit doesn’t stink, glad to have gotten to you before you they tried to sink their hooks into you.”

“Think they’d want me?” Peter was curious.

“Yeah, on the surface you’re just their type.”

“On the surface?”

“Everything you told me about yourself makes me think you’re not one to blindly follow orders, which would put you in conflict with them I’m sure, the little bootlickers.”

Peter scoffed; he had enough trouble following orders from people he liked when he thought back on it. Eventually they made their way to the transporter terminal.

“I should get back to May, she’s still a bit rattled after the attack,” Peter repeated himself, “Are you sure you’ll be ok?”

Simon rolled his eyes, “Yeah, don’t worry. I learned my lesson about treating trauma with Aldebaran Whiskey. Go on, now,” Simon patted Peter’s shoulder. 

Peter stepped into the booth, inputting the coordinates for his Brooklyn home and Simon watched him disappear in a stream of blue light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like having Simon as a POV character, just to show how the various crap that happens around Earth in Star Trek affects the people that live there and aren't directly connected to main characters.


	9. Chapter 3, Part 1

**Stardate 51190 – March 11, 2374**

**Peter Parker**

_FEDERATION ALLIANCE FORCES RECAPTURE STARBASE DS9  
Jake Sisko, FNS Correspondent, Bajor Sector_

_In a tense, last minute confrontation, Starfleet and Klingon Defence Forces have retaken Terok Nor in the late evening hours on Stardate 51989. Dominion forces fled the station after Bajoran Resistance saboteurs reportedly disabled the station’s defense systems and when it became clear that Gamma Quadrant reinforcements were not forthcoming. _

_The commander of the once again re-christened station Deep Space Nine, Benjamin Sisko and the leader of the taskforce Adm. William Ross declined to comment on the lack of reinforcements, but the wormhole is reportedly home to non-corporeal beings who have previously shown the ability to disappear any unwanted ships entering the anomaly_

_Life aboard the station and Bajor is returning to normal as recovery efforts begin..._

The PADD showing him the latest news from the front fascinated Peter. Ever since the start of hostilities weeks after the Borg crisis, a new sense of purpose began to drive the people around him, even as far as Earth was from the front lines.

This didn’t feel like the continuing warfare he experienced growing up in the United States after the September 11th attacks, or the random attacks by powerful beings or alien forces like the Chitauri invasion of 2012. No, to Peter this felt like something out of the mid twentieth century history books. Large fleet formations battling it out, hopping from planet to planet like the Marines hopping from island to island in the Pacific.

His thoughts turned to Steve Rogers at times like these, even though he only met the man on the opposite end of a fight in Leipzig. The idea of wrapping himself up in a Federation flag and going out punching Cardassian and Jem’Hadar soldiers had crossed his mind, but the Federation would not be open to an augment representing their ideals on the battlefield, nor was such bald-faced propaganda conducive to these times.

So here he was, on the one-year anniversary of his arrival in this timeline, looking at the newsfeed on his PADD, trying to keep his mind off the impending examination, first of his entrance exams for Starfleet. The bare waiting room held only himself, and three other prospective cadets, one of whom would be taking this portion of the exam alongside Peter.

For the last few months, he had subsumed himself in various systems schematics: warp drives, sensor systems, any defense systems that were public knowledge. He had taken supplementary courses on modern ethics, modern physics, chemistry, materials science and engrossed himself in references on military history, tactics, logistics, you name it.

At the beginning of the year, with the backing of Doctor (or more appropriately for this situation Lieutenant) Loews he had sent his application in to join the Academy, specifically the operations divisions.

May was still hesitant, though he told her in no uncertain terms that he was going ahead with his choice. He remembered as she sighed, “You’re more like Ben every day, I’m proud of you. Terrified, but proud.”

Peter couldn’t say that didn’t affect him. He couldn’t promise her that he’d come home alive and well, not after Titan and Thanos, although in that case they were both erased. He kept his ear out for any signs of anyone else form his timeline finding themselves here, thinking that maybe Thanos’ plan didn’t work out as planned and he would find Tony, or Rhodey, or one of those ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ or anyone really. 

A year of searching yielded nothing, but the year wasn’t wasted. It’s how he found himself where he is now, waiting to take the first of his exams, testing his mental acuity and problem-solving ability. That short vague description was all he would get. He wasn’t sure which one of the prospective cadets sitting nervously with him would be his partner. 

He looked over the others in the room. Everyone was sitting, waiting nervously. He was the only human in the group, the others, all peers in his age range included a Bajoran woman. She was staring intently at the opposite wall. The young Barzan man sitting beside him was exuding nervous energy, his eyes darting from one spot to another. Finally, a short haired Klingon woman, piqued his interest. Klingons rarely served outside the KDF, especially during wartime.

The door chimed, a hardnosed, older Starfleet officer with a greying buzz-cut, a Lieutenant Commander by the look of his pips entered the waiting room.

Looking at his own PADD, he announced “Parker, Peter and Meren”.

Peter rose, along with the Klingon woman, and followed the veteran officer into what looked like a holo-suite.

The officer spoke in an austere voice, “I’d like to be the first to welcome you, prospects. I am Lieutenant Commander Bill Ashby, should you pass this portion and all subsequent tests to Starfleet’s satisfaction, we’ll become very familiar with each other.”

Peter and Meren, the Klingon woman stood at attention as he continued, “In a few moments your scenario will begin. As Starfleet is a collaborative organization, you must learn to trust the person who will be serving with you. As you wait for your scenario to start, I suggest you get to know the partner with whom you’ll be working over the next two hours. Are there any questions before we begin?”

Ashby looked over at Peter, who shook his head, and Meren who stood stoically, “Then I wish you luck.”

The proctor turned his back to the duo and left the holo-suite leaving them both in an awkward silence. Peter looked up at Meren, who dwarfed him by a foot easily.

“Hi,” he offered meekly.

She nodded, replying with a “Hey.” 

Peter didn’t know what to expect, maybe a Thor-like boisterousness not such a perfunctory, almost friendly greeting. It disarmed him, and he grinned slightly.

“So, not to you know sound ignorant, but I would have thought that uhh…”

She smirked, “I’d be in the thick of it, on a bird of prey or on the battlefield slaughtering Jem’hadar with my Mek’leth?”

“Something like that, sorry if I sound ignorant.”

“No offense taken, it’s what would have been expected of me. Peter, right?” She offered.

The tension in the room dropped noticeably, “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you,” Peter said offering his hand.

Meren took the offered hand, and looked at him with surprise, “quite a grip for a human.”

“Thanks! I think,” Peter looked around, “So what do you think they’ll have us do?”

“No clue, it’s all very hush hush don’t you think?”

“I asked my friend who already did these tests, he said they change them from year to year,” Peter replied, “So, just out of curiosity how did you end up here?”

“Oh, you know how it goes: your house supports the Federation alliance, some opportunistic rival uses a diplomatic crisis to claim your lands and you run off to claim asylum with the Federation to avoid dying in some pointless blood-feud.”  
This all sounded very Game of Thrones, “Uh, no I don’t know but, regardless I’m…uhm, I’m sorry.”

“Ugh, I’m not. Klingon society has no love for the scientifically-inclined,” Meren mentioned off-hand, “what about you?”

“Well, my story is a bit weird,” Peter went into a brief explanation of how he ended up here. Meren raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“A human augment?” 

“Yeah, hope that’s not a problem.”

“Well, not me personally, just the last time Klingons messed with human augments a bunch ended up with smooth foreheads, it was all very embarrassing, we prefer not to talk about it.”

Peter had no idea; he didn’t remember reading anything like that in the history books about genetic engineering; though he may have come upon the odd photo of a smooth headed Klingon in the historical databases.

A short chime rang through the holodeck, and the grid disappeared; replaced with the cabin of a Danube-class runabout, indicating the beginning of their test. Meren and Peter looked at the pile of PADDs that materialized before them as a look of determination swept over their faces and they got to work.

Some time had passed before the doors of the holo-suite opened to reveal two frazzled cadet prospects. Bill Ashby looked in surprise, checking the chronometer, and looking at the duo again, “It’s only been an hour and twenty minutes, you’re done already?”

Peter and Meren looked at each other, then at the Commander, “Yes, sir,” they replied in unison. 

Ashby shrugged, looking at the results on his PADD, his face betraying nothing, “Very well, please return to the waiting room, you’ll know the results of your evaluation once the other group has finished its exam.”

Peter and Meren entered the waiting room and took their seat, grinning conspiratorially all the while.

“I don’t think I was expecting it to be that easy,” Peter mentioned off-hand.

“You were very quick with the sensor recalibration, you barely read the manual.”

Peter shrugged, “I had a lot of free time over the past year, and I have an eidetic memory.”

“Well, I gotta say I lucked out partnering with you, could have ended up with that jumpy Barzan.”

“You were pretty quick yourself; I don’t think I would have thought of using the reflection of the ice particles in the Oort cloud to increase resolution.” 

“A little trick I used when I went hunting for pirates with my father,” Meren grinned.

Peter smiled back, “That sounds like a hell of a story, listen my friends and I are heading out tonight to celebrate completing the first exam, you’re more than welcome to join us.”

“By Kahless, yes. I need to get the last few weeks of cramming and stress out of my head.”

The door opened to reveal the other two prospects, with Ashby handing the duo a report detailing their results. They completed the test in record time, but between the two of them was there wasn’t any doubt; they felt like they could take on the whole of the Dominion.

**Simon Loews**

“I do not understand why you decided to take temporal mechanics as an elective if it causes you such distress,” T’Lara looked over an exasperated Simon as he bowed his head into his elbows.

“I don’t know, between you and Peter I felt I couldn’t keep up.”

T’Lara raised her damn hobgoblin eyebrow, giving him that same damn look whenever he did something foolish, “so your inadequacy next to a genetically engineered superhuman and a Vulcan caused you to take the most difficult technical elective, despite it being no use in your future career prospects.”

Simon muttered something inaudible, T’Lara responded “I am sorry, I did not hear that.”

“I said Peter’s intellect is not the result of his genetic enhancement,” Simon came to his friend’s defense, “He was that smart before the whole superhuman thing.”  
“Truly?”

Simon nodded.

“Then It is even more pointless to be envious of someone’s inborn ability.”

“I’m not jealous,” he whispered, “just wondering what the two of you see in me.”

“It is also illogical to consistently put yourself down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Simon added before taking a big gulp of the bubbling ale sitting in front of him, “Speak of the devil, or devils apparently.”

Peter and some strange Klingon approached the party, “Hey guys, hope you don’t mind. This is Meren my, she was my partner in today’s exam, I invited her to join us.”

Simon looked at the statuesque woman, her hair cropped in a short, almost Vulcan bob, “Uhh, no, no problem at all, please take a seat.” 

Peter and Meren took their places across form the duo, “I’m Simon, this is T’Lara.”

“Pleasure,” Meren replied, “Peter’s told me…well, nothing about you as we only recently met. Are you both trying for the academy too?”

“You guys get to know each other, I’m gonna grab us a drink. What are you having Meren?”

“Synthale for me.” 

Peter went over to the bartender, while Meren took her seat.

Simon piped up, “Oh I’m finishing my first year, T’Lara here is enrolled at the Vulcan Science Academy.”

The Klingon woman eyed Simon’s Vulcan friend, “Oh I tried going for the Science Academy myself, the interviewer kept questioning the logic of a member of an ‘intellectually challenged species’ like my own seeking to enroll.”

T’Lara looked at her with as much shame as a Vulcan could muster, “was your assessor Nivek, or Kass?”

“Nivek! That’s the one.”

“You have my apologies, the science academy tends to attract the more rigid and orthodox in our society.”

Meren waved her off, “Starfleet was my first choice, no offense.”

T’Lara responded in her stoic Vulcan way, “I am incapable of taking offense.”

Simon butted in, “Yeah, I mostly took offense on her behalf in school.”

“And ended up suitably chastised each time you did.”

Meren evaluated Simon, “you look like a scrapper.”

“Me?” Simon asked in surprise, “No, well I got into fights didn’t really do quite well. Peter here on the other hand…”

Peter was just returning with the drinks, taking his seat asking, “What about me?”

“I was just about to regale Meren here about your former career in unauthorized law enforcement.”

Meren’s interest seemed piqued, “say what now?”

Peter looked bashful, “Yeah, it was sort of my thing before whatever brought me here.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

Peter then went into a brief explanation of what his enhancements have rendered him capable, and a few short descriptions of previous entanglements with some of New York’s other costumed weirdos.

Meren’s boisterious laugh rang through the patio, “Seriously? Was your entire timeline that kitschy?”

Peter looked like he was thinking hard, then answered “Yep, we were the campiest timeline.”

T’Lara looked on in what passed for bemusement for a Vulcan while Meren wiped a tear as her laughter calmed down before she shared a conspiratorial look, “Seriously though, I don’t care but try to keep your gifts quiet around other Klingons, unless you just want a cavalcade of warriors constantly challenging you to ‘honorable combat’.”

Peter looked at Simon uncertainly, before Simon assuaged his disquiet, “Bah, those are only stereotypes,” then smoothly segueing into a different subject, “but, speaking of Peter. Tonight, we’re not only celebrating you completing your first exam, brining you one step closer to joining this illustrious service,” he said slapping down the well-known Starfleet com-badge onto the table.

Simon continued, looking at Peter with barely concealed affection, “When my mom told me of her new time-displaced augment patient I was expecting some long-haired well-built megalomaniacal warlord from ages past, not this sweet, kind self-conscious nerd.”

Peter looked flushed as Simon continued, “while the circumstances of your arrival here may have been, ahem, less than ideal I can easily say that I’m glad you’re here, and my life is richer for having known you…plus your aunt is pretty great too!”

Meren pretended to retch, Peter chortled, as Simon raised his glass “So happy one year in the Federation anniversary,” Simon was a few drinks in, so that came out rather awkwardly, “here’s to many more!”

The group raised and clinked their glasses, each taking a drink.

Peter looked at Simon, “That was very sweet, a bit awkward but sweet.”

“Anything for you, Pete,” Simon said semi-jokingly, but with an underlying sincerity.

Meren interrupted, “So, new friends. I don’t know about you, but I could eat a targ, whole.”

Peter’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food, “I mean, with my metabolism that’s pretty much a normal meal, but yeah I could eat too.”

Simon looked at T’Lara questioningly, she answered “I am not particularly hungry, but do not let that hinder you.”

“Alright, there’s a pretty decent replomat on Fifth and Minna, not too far from here.”

Meren stood up, beckoning the rest, “come then, the night is just starting. You, Vulcan. I want to hear everything about your chosen field of study. I do not get the opportunity to pick the brains of someone of your caliber, well, ever.”

T’Lara launched into an explanation as Peter and Simon shared a look and followed behind them.

**Peter Parker**

‘A few blocks’ turned into at least an hour of walking as Simon and Peter looked ahead at the new budding friendship unfolding before them. Vulcans and Klingons do not usually make fast friends, Peter figured based on what he knew about the two species. Eventually, after Peter and Meren got into an impromptu eating contest, they made their way to Golden Gate park, where Simon decided to grace them with a history lesson about the Enterprise crew and their time travel caper to bring two humpback whales to the future.

“That’s ridiculous,” Peter exclaimed, “I mean I know it’s true, but it’s still a ridiculous.”

Meren interjected, “Kirk and his crew had a set of brass ones, one miscalculation or hiccup from the bird of prey, which were notorious for being cheap and unreliable, and they would have ended their journey as solar wind.”

“Well it’s no fun when you all know the story,” Simon added sullenly, as Peter draped an arm around his shoulder. 

“That’s alright,” Peter’s Spidey-like confidence was in full force after a few drinks, he grins at “you tell it great.”

T’Lara and Meren shared a look, the Vulcan one piping up “Well, I think it is time for me to turn in.”

Meren quickly added, “Let me escort you home.”

T’Lara readily agreed leaving a dumbfounded Peter and Simon who promptly burst into a bout of laughter as they waved goodbye. Quiet permeated the park apart from the muffled noise of the city in the near distance. 

Peter interrupted the quiet, “You think they?”

“Yep,” Simon answered quickly, suppressing a small giggle.

“I thought Vulcans had that seven-year itch thing going for them?”

Simon glanced at Peter with a barely concealed grin, “That’s a hell of a way to describe Pon-farr. They’re capable of coupling outside of the rutting season.

Peter hummed, trying to avoid eye contact. Simon asked, “Have anyone like that back in your time?”

“Kind of?” Peter sounded unsure.

“Well?”

“Well, the girl I took to the homecoming dance, her father ended up being The Vulture.”

“The gun runner?” Simon remembered the story.

“Yep, apparently sending her father to prison isn’t really conducive to building a relationship.”

“I guess not, just her?”

Peter looked down at his shoes, he used to prefer not to remember what he’d left behind, but a some time had passed, and a year of coming to terms made it easier to answer, “I think I had some feelings for my friend MJ, but she was hard to read. What about you?”

Simon looked pensieve, “Yeah, I think so. There’s this one person, I’ve been sort of subtle about it so I’m not sure if they’ve caught my signals.”

A sick feeling lurched through Peter’s stomach, couldn’t be envy. He asked, “Oh? Why not make a move then?”

“Not sure how they’d react. Don’t wanna screw it up?” Simon mulled.

“Can’t do that unless you try, right?” Peter took a moment to look at his friend, really look at him. The dirty blonde mop he got from his mom rounded out his sharper features. He had a crooked grin around a slightly asymmetric nose. That didn’t really matter though, over the last year the most important thing Simon brought wasn’t his looks or his intellect. No, his presence bred familiarity, and familiarity bred affection. 

Peter was ready to miss Simon when he left for the Academy, but the truth was with the way this century worked distances spanning continents no longer mattered and his fears of Simon leaving him behind never materialized. 

“Maybe you’re right Pete,” Simon looked wistfully ahead of him, “I’ll have to think on it.”

“How are you doing Simon, really?” Peter asked of his friend.

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, “I don’t really know, with this war going on I feel like every expectation I had about joining up is being shredded before my eyes.”

“Oh?”

“Did you know they’re giving cadets field commissions after only two years?”

That made sense to Peter, they needed bodies on the frontline especially when their enemy could breed soldiers faster than Starfleet or the KDF could replenish them.

“You’re not too keen on being pushed to the front-line, I take it?”

Simon looked down, almost ashamed, “I don’t know Pete, I want to contribute but I wanted to join the Starfleet I grew up hearing about; exploring the galaxy, making first contact, being on the leading edge of discovery.”

“Not ‘defending some communications relay in the hind end of space’,” Peter air quoted.

Simon looked at Peter wistfully, “I don’t know what you must think of me, you’re always the first to jump into the fray as it were.”

Peter looked surprised, “I don’t think less of you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Simon shrugged, “Maybe a little.”

Peter’s face softened as he grabbed his friend by the shoulder, “Not in the slightest. Besides, I’m sure they’d rather have security, command and operations cadets rather than a Xenobiologist at the front line.”

“I suppose, though I’d hope I wouldn’t hesitate to join if they actually called my number up.”

“Then I’d have to forget about the Academy and enlist directly.”

Simon looked at him askance, “Don’t be silly, Peter.”

Peter looked at him, “Not kidding in the slightest. I couldn’t stay here knowing you were out there fighting. The Academy will hopefully be around after the war.”

“I couldn’t think of a bigger waste than having that mind of yours wasted scrubbing plasma conduits or repairing phaser rifles,” Simon chortled, “still if I’m going to be in the foxholes I couldn’t think of anyone I’d trust more to be next to me.”

Peter hummed. The war seemed far away, light years away in fact. The concept still eluded Peter, that something that used to be that unreachable could make its way here in weeks or days, much less his lifetime.

Simon stood up, “Come on, enough of this maudlin bullshit. I’m not ready for this night to be over.”

Peter looked up at him, “What were you thinking?”

“Well, you see I have this weird time displaced friend who won’t shut up about twentieth and twenty-first century popular culture. So, I thought, what would tickle his fancy? Would you believe it that I found an antique dealer in Tokyo who specializes in restoring old entertainment systems?”

“Tokyo, when did you go to Tokyo?”

“A few days ago, transporters Peter, keep up.”

Peter rolled his eyes, gesturing for his friend to continue, “Of course, so tell me what you found.”

Simon motioned his head behind his shoulder, “I’d rather show you, come on.”

**Simon Loews**

The blue shimmering light disappeared from his view as his dorm in the Presidio came into view. Entering the building he scanned his ID, manually entering Peter as a guest in the security system allowing him entry.

The two young men made their way to Simon’s quarters, where the bed had been supplemented with extra cushioning and two ottomans to make a sort of makeshift couch. On the other side of the rather cramped loft was a ‘forty-two inch LED television’ according to the antique dealer.

“This can’t have been cheap.”

Simon laughed, “No, the actual antique runs something like two bars,” he watched as Peter’s eyes widened at the price. 

Most material goods cost nothing in the Federation’s economy, a result of near infinite energy and the ability to convert it readily to matter. Some ‘non-essential items of limited quantity’ such as original antiques carried a price, usually exacted in slips, strips or bars of gold-pressed latinum: a currency employed by the Ferengi Alliance which mixed un-replicable liquid latinum embedded in worthless gold.

When he met a Ferengi cadet at the Academy named Nog he asked him why the latinum was mixed with gold, the answer, obvious in retrospect, was “so currency transactions don’t have to be conducted with an eyedropper.”

The two young men looked at the antiquated contraption as Simon went into an explanation, “The proprietor let me scan the thing, then I had an engineering cadet who owed me a favor help me modify and replicate it.” 

“Now you’re the expert, so tell me if there’s any accompaniments I’m missing.”

Peter looked mockingly pensieve as he listed off the various snack foods that accompanied the ritual of movie-watching. Popcorn, cola, skittles, malteasers, the list went on and on. Simon looked through his food replicator for what he could find, before they knew it their little entertainment nook was full of enough snacks to feed a small army.

He produced an isolinear rod, inserting it into the modified port on the side of the television. Peter had already taken a seat on the ‘couch’. The screen came to life, as Simon dimmed the lights of the dorm. An LCARS display popped up, not part of the original, but you had what you could work with.

“So, there were some similarities between our realities based on what you told me before. But I’m afraid there’s only three of those ‘Star Wars’ movies you kept going on about and I had to dig pretty far in the Federation cultural database, this was like a mini-research project.”

“Oh, well, I could see the Eugenics Wars putting a kibosh on the rest of the series,” Peter conceded, but Simon could tell he was buzzing with excitement in his own quiet way.

“I had hoped T’Lara would be here to join us too, but what can you do,” Simon dropped beside Peter as a fanfare for something called ‘Twentieth Century Fox’ blared from the screen, “So how did I do?”

Peter’s look of affection sent the butterflies in his stomach flapping, “You did great,” he shifted his attention to the screen picking up a handful of popcorn, “now quiet, I’m just realizing that a full year is far too long to be deprived of Star Wars.”

“Far be it for me to deny you further,” Simon kept his eyes on Peter and the screen as he looked longingly at a field of stars and blue text proclaiming ‘_A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away…_’. Simon picked up a handful of popcorn, shoving the salty treat into his mouth, realizing that the he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right at this moment.

The movies were quainr, but fun. Still, in his opinion being a passive participant in this sort of audio-visual entertainment paled in comparison to the holodeck. His last thoughts before sleep took him were that maybe he’d have to update the story into a holo-novel, or better yet find someone with more aptitude in holography. 

When the sun’s rays bled through his blinds, waking him he felt a warm presence against his back and light breathing against the nape of his neck. An arm was haphazardly wrapped around his waist, and as he craned his neck around seeing Peter’s peaceful slumbering face he knew he was in trouble.


	10. Chapter 3, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finally leaves Earth. And this time he didn't have to stowaway or get kidnapped or anything.

**Stardate 51256 – April 4, 2374**  
**Peter Parker**

The first time Peter went into space he ended up nearly being blown out into the vacuum, crushed several times, and ultimately, he watched himself turn to dust fully expecting to die. The second time Peter went into space he was kidnapped by an alleged agent of a shadowy organization dedicated to defending the Federation by any means necessary. 

No, he was going into space, not as a stowaway or kidnapping victim. The USS Challenger, a Galaxy-class cruiser was their mode of transport, taking himself, May, Dr. Loews and the Jack Pack to probably the most strategically important location in the current conflict with the Dominion. 

He was a guest on this excursion; technically he was still a minor in the custody of his Aunt and she was here on the job, taking care of Jack, Lauren, Patrick and Sarina to the station. After Cardassia joined the Dominion, the recently repatriated Chief Medical Officer, Julian Bashir was revealed to be an augment; having undergone the same procedure as a child as Dr. Loews patients. 

Over the last few months the two Doctors had been in correspondence, it was their hope that a study could be performed to glean the differences between the Doctor who seemingly suffered none of the neurochemical and psychological issues that Jack, Patrick, Sarina and Lauren lived with and that this study would one day lead to a treatment to free them from the institute.

Peter was invited to be part of the study as well, if he wasn’t, he would have insisted on coming as the thought of his Aunt being so close to the front lines didn’t sit well with him. So here he was, in the quarters he shared with his aunt watching the stars streak by. When he first boarded, he was excited, this was his first real (authorized) trip off planet.

The journey of 52 light years took some days to complete, and Peter couldn’t have been more bored. As a civilian he was restricted from accessing most of the vessel, with only the gymnasium, crew mess, and holodecks which were busy most of the time as they catered to a crew of over a thousand souls.

When he found the time, he would keep the company of the other Mutants as they christened themselves. Jack was still his cantankerous, paranoid self, he still fended off inappropriate advances from Lauren and walked on eggshells around Patrick lest he send him into a crying tantrum. He’d taken to keeping Sarina company while the other three found some other problem to occupy their minds. It was easy to use her as a sounding board since she didn’t really respond. 

Over the last few days, ever since the night after the first exam Simon had been jumpy around Peter. He woke up that day on the bed having fallen asleep sometime during their screening of Return of the Jedi. He couldn’t put a finger on what was making his friend so skittish, and hopefully he’d be grow out of it by the time Peter returned to Earth.

Since then he’d subsumed himself in his studies for the upcoming rounds of exams and the Federation cultural database trying to find any remnants of his old life and obsessions. His mind would invariably turn back to his old home, and he would find himself missing Ned and the nights they’d spend building some new set of Legos or painting Warhammer figurines. The pain of missing his old life had dulled, but it was still ever present.

The door slid open to reveal his Aunt looking harried and tired, “everything alright? Mutants giving you trouble?”

His aunt rolled her eyes, “No, not them oddly enough. Karen and I spent the last two hours in discussion with the Challenger medical staff. Karen has had time to get used to us, but still talking to these Starfleet types can be trying.”  
“Oh, were they treating you like a primitive oddity again?”

“Let me tell you, as trying as Jack, Lauren and Patrick can be,” nobody found Sarina trying, Peter thought to himself, “I’d rather spend years alone stranded on an island with them than a few hours being condescended to by Starfleet types.”  
She looked at him, “Promise me you’ll never turn into one of them.”

Peter chuckled, “I’m too self-conscious to judge other people, you know that.” 

Peter sat up on the couch as May replicate a cup of tea, “Could you get me a coffee while you’re there?”

“And one coffee, black,” the beverage materialized in the bay as May picked it up and placed it on the coffee table in their spacious quarters. Nothing about this ship screamed military except for the armed security personnel walking the corridors.  
May took a sip, “How are you holding up Pete?”

Peter looked at her, “Other than boredom, I can’t really complain.”

“From what I heard the station is a lot less restrictive. I was also thinking of taking a trip to Bajor. I’d love to play tourist on an alien planet.”

Peter thought back to his time on Titan the last (and only) world other than Earth he’d set foot on. Maybe traipsing around the famous fire caves, or the Kai’s temple in Ashala taking holophotos would do him some good.

“Pete there’s something else bothering you, I can tell.”

Peter sighed, “It’s Simon, he’s acting weird around me, like he’ll get burned if I so much as touch him.”

“Of course he has. The boy has it bad for you.”

“What? Me? No, ” Surprise colored Peter’s features.

“Pete, I love you, and I know you well. So take my word for it when I tell you that you can be pretty oblivious sometimes. The question is, what do you think about that? Does it bother you? Interest you?”

Peter never thought about it, his romantic interest so far had been confined to girls in his old school, though his relationships with the few he’d met here had been purely platonic.

“I guess I haven’t thought about it.”

May shifted over, closer to Peter. Placing her hand gently on his leg, “Pete, I don’t know if I need to tell you this but you do understand I love you unconditionally, right?”

Peter’s face softened, “Of course, I love you too. But I honestly never thought about this.”

“What about Tony Stark? You worshipped the very ground he walked on.”

Peter stammered, “Mr. Stark? No. I mean I don’t think so? That was just admiration?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No. I’m telling you. My feelings towards Tony were purely platonic. Maybe, some misdirected familial love too, at least Dr. Loews thinks so.”

“I don’t want to pry…”

“No, you might as well know. One of the things we discussed is my need to latch on to father figures after, well…after everything…”

Peter didn’t need to elaborate; May knew exactly what he was talking about. 

May rose from her seat, “I have to go check on my patients, will you be alright alone?”

“You ask me every time, answer still hasn’t changed.” 

“I know, but I’m allowed to worry.”

“I’ve got a reservation on the holodeck in two hours, I think I might go for a swing.”

“Simon’s program?” She asked, pointing out what was now obvious to Peter.

“Yes, okay, I get it. Now that I look back on it he wasn’t exactly subtle.”

May smirked, “He’d make a great son-in-law.”

“May!”

She put her hands up in mock surrender, “Alright, alright. I’ll lay off.”

~~~~~~~~~

**Stardate 51262 – April 6, 2374**

**Starbase Deep Space Nine, Bajor Sector **

The gear-like airlock door gave way to the dark, imposing corridors of the old Cardassian station. Peter disembarked along with his aunt, Dr. Loews and the rest.  
Jack, Lauren and Patrick were muttering amongst themselves, while Sarina continued to stare catatonically, not showing any reaction to their change in environment.

Karen motioned toward May, “I’m going to get them settled, can you drop by once you find your quarters.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help right now?”

“No, I’ll be alright.”

Peter and May split off from the rest of the group. Walking through the halls of the Cardassian station which looked like a bicycle spoke in space, they eventually made their way to their room for the next few days.

Peter noted his surroundings, nothing had the familiar softness of the Federation and Starfleet, “Definitely feels different, doesn’t it?”

“No kidding. If you told me when I was a little girl that I’d be going on a work trip to an alien space station I’d have had you committed.”

The two of them settled into their respective rooms. May left to help Dr. Loews in the Mutants’ quarters located in one of the auxiliary cargo bays.

This station, unlike the USS Challenger which brought them over was an open porte. Making his way to the central ring of the station, commonly known as the Promenade, he took in the fact that he wasn’t on Earth anymore. Even the aliens that lived on Earth felt culturally human. 

The station was full of species he recognized, Klingons, Vulcans, Bajorans, Ferengi, Naussican, and some he didn’t. He took in the shops, not having much in the way of gold-pressed latinum he could only window shop the various stores and restaurants.  
The promenade was noisy, full of life in comparison to the rather sterile environment of the Challenger. He eventually made his way to the local, a drinking (and gambling establishment) called Quark’s. He jingled the few small strips of latinum Simon had given him ahead of the trip, taking his seat beside a large leathery looking alien sullenly nursing his drink.

One of the Ferengi, a peculiar race if he ever saw one, approached him “Let me guess, Root Beer.”

Peter’s face scrunched up, he wasn’t particularly fond of that drink “Umm no. I want to try something local.”

The Ferengi’s face lit up, “I have a bottle of Rekantha reserve, 2371. Very good year.”

“Just a glass, please.”

“That’ll be two slips,” Peter hands over two of the smallest units from his pocket.

The bartender pours a glass of pale pink, slightly opaque liquid. Peter picks up, takes a sniff, then a quick taste. It’s sweeter than he expected, but not unpleasant.

The bartender looks down at him, “So what’s your story?”

“Excuse me?”

“What brings you here?” He said looking up.

“Following a group of genetically engineered misfits so they can see your station’s CMO.”

“Bashir?”

“That’s the one,” Peter said taking a swing of the drink. The taste was growing on him.

“What are you doing with a group of ‘genetically engineered hew-mons’.”

“It’s a rather outlandish story.”

The bartender’s eyes lit up, “Oh I like the outlandish ones.”

Peter launched into the details of his tale, time displacement, waking up in a whole new Earth and feeling like a bit of an alien himself.

“Oh, you’re from the twentieth century? I spent some time on twentieth century Earth, the hew-mons then were so much more interesting”

"You were on earth in the twentieth century?"

"Sure, some place called Roswell. I forget the year."

Peter scoffed, "Of course, you're the alien from Area 51, why wouldn't you be. But I'm from the twenty-first.”

The bartender chuckled, “How do you find these Starfleet types.”

Peter’s eyes shifted back and forth, and he lurched forward slightly, speaking in hushed tones, “They’re a bit judgmental aren’t they?”

“Must be especially fun for you, being a walking anachronism, a reminder of the past they’re so ashamed of, and you’re an augment to boot.”

Peter looked down at his half empty glass to see more liquid pouring in, “Oh, I need to save my money,” 

The bartender interrupted him, “this round is on the house.”

Peter looked incredulously, “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Peter shrugged thinking it was uncharacteristic of everything he’s heard about the Ferengi. He wouldn’t be dumb enough to voice that opinion out loud.

“Have you met the good doctor yet?”

“No, not yet.” 

“Well, here’s your chance,” just as the bartender spoke he saw two men in bomber jackets of all things approach from the back of the bar, “another fine day defending your fair isle from the cabbage crates?”

“You know it, Quark. Two synthales.”

“Coming right up.” 

Peter made eye contact with the slimmer, darker skinned of the two who commented in crisp Received Pronunciation, “I recognize you.”

“You’re Dr. Bashir?”

“Yes, you must be Mr. Parker. I’ve read your medical records; they’re astounding, quite frankly unbelievable.”

“What are you going on about, Julian?” The second one, speaking in a rather thick Irish brogue commented.

“This is one of the genetically engineered patients from the Institute. Or former patient in Peter's case. My friend here is Miles O’Brien, chief of operations.”

Peter offered his hand, the older man shook it, “Hell of a grip you got there.”

“So I’ve been told,” Peter grinned, “Also I’ve been discharged, but my aunts still works under Dr. Loews at the institute,” Peter replied.

The bartender, well proprietor is more precise returned with two drinks, looking at the trio in conversation. Peter was bombarded with questions about medical conditions he suffered in the past, any subtler changes he noticed before and after his genetic conditioning, and on and on.

“Lay off the poor boy, Julian. He’s here for a drink I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to interrogate him later.”

“Alright, alright!” Bashir raised his hands in mock surrender.

Peter decided a redirect was necessary, “So what’s your story, Doc?”

“Oh, well…” A sour look came across the Doctor’s face, “I wasn’t developing fast enough in my parents’ opinion when I was a child, and they felt it was necessary to have me undergo accelerated critical neural pathway formation.”  
Peter looked abashed, “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“No, It’s alright,” He remarked, “I’ve only recently come to terms with it. What about yourself, if you don’t mind my asking.”

Peter tried to think of a way to word it that didn’t sound absurd, “Industrial accident, while on a school field trip of all things.”

“What kind of accident?” O’Brien piped up.

“Well, my class was touring this biotech company’s headquarters, one of their experiments got loose, a spider that was heavily altered, not to mention radioactive. It bit me, I was out of it for days, when I woke up I could bench press shipping containers and stick to walls.”

Both of their eyebrows rose, Dr. Bashir was skeptical, “that seems, rather implausible.” 

“I don’t know what to tell you Doc, that’s the timeline of events as I recall them.”

O’Brien asked, “I can’t imagine what I’d do with that kind of power when I was adolescent.”

Peter’s mind flashed back to his first few days with powers, all leading up to his Uncle’s untimely death.

“And then you ended up here, in this divergent future, eventually.”

“Eventually,” Peter pivoted, “it’s amazing how unremarkable that is to Starfleet officers.”

“Oh yes,” O’Brien piped up, “I mean our crew alone has traveled across time, and to the mirror universe”

“I read about that one, it’s the one where everyone has a goatee and they’re all evil.”

“Well, not quite like that,” Julian interjected, “but not far off either.”

“But we can’t go into too much detail, a lot of those mission files are still classified,” O’Brien interjected.

“Maybe when I’m able to get clearance you can regale me?”

“Clearance?”

“I applied to Starfleet Academy, going through my entrance exams right now.”

Julian chimed in, “Oh, and what division are you planning on?”

“Operations, with a view of going into engineering.”

“Looks like we got another tinkerer on our hands, Miles.”

“I’ve done my share of tinkering,” Peter went into a detailed explanation of the various designs he employed during his vigilante days. The idea of an underage crime-fighter seemed to surprise the two officers, but Peter’s enthusiasm over the intricacies of his designs served to distract them.

O’Brien took one last gulp of his ale, “Well, I need to return to duty, but listen if you get bored of being poked and prodded by Julian feel free to look me up. I don’t mean to belittle your future instructors but I’m sure there’s a thing or two you could pick up from me.”

“Wait, really?”

“Absolutely, meet me tomorrow in front of Quarks at say oh-nine-hundred hours?”

“I’ll be there!” Peter returned enthusiastically, shaking O’Brien’s hand and watching the engineer depart.

“How about we go check on the rest of your compatriots for the time being.”

“Sure. Umm if you don’t mind me saying, you guys seem a bit more laid back than the crew of the Challenger.”

“Ah, I could see how that might be the case. We’re out on the frontier here; though don’t go calling it that in front of the locals, I learned that the hard way. It attracts a different breed of officer, I find.”

“I’ll say,” Peter remarked, departing with the Doctor.

~~~~~~~

Dr. Bashir made a quick rapport with the rest of the Mutants, except Jack who was his usually anti-social self. The initial meeting had been a one way interrogation form Jack, criticizing everything from the Doctor’s ancestry, his ability to pass as normal and his continuing service in Starfleet despite years of lying about his condition.

Peter felt sorry for the Doctor, Jack could be insufferable, but Jack had a point about the genetically engineered being barred from any worthwhile professions. Peter’s case was only considered ‘special’ because his conditioning wasn’t intentionally inflicted on him.

Bashir had retired for the evening, to join the rest of the staiton’s senior staff for supper. Peter decided to spend the evening with the mutants.

Helping Patrick set the table while Lauren and Jack replicated their meal. Given that it was their first night in the Bajor sector, they decided for a fully Bajoran menu. Peter recommended the nice spring wine he had at Quark’s. 

The clattering of plates and utensils eventually died down as everyone was seated. Lauren was helping Sarina with the meal, Jack was picking away at his food and Patrick was shoveling it in.

“So,” Lauren piped up, “what does everyone think of the newbie,” she asked referring to Bashir.

“Complete fraud,” Jack piped up, “where does he get off?”

“Seems alright to me,” Patrick chimed in.

“Well, you’re not exactly the best judge of character,” Jack chided, Patrick’s mouth quivered and his expression faltered, one more comment and Peter was sure they’d be in the middle of a full tantrum.

“What about you Peter?”

Peter looked up from his meal, “On the surface he seems confident, but internally he doubts himself a lot.”

“Yes, yes, classic case of impostor syndrome.”

“You can tell all that? How?” Lauren asked.

“Like recognizes like,” Peter shrugged, “I mean he was a sort of impostor, lying about his enhancements for so long. I know how that goes. Still, he exudes an air of unwavering competence, like every other Starfleet doctor I’ve met so far.”

“His work on Biomolecular Replication almost got him the Carringon,” Patrick added.

“Hah, it’s a wonder they didn’t catch him right then and there, a thirty year old being nominated for a lifetime achievement award,” Jack exclaimed, all the while stabbing at his Hasperat.

“His eyes are striking,” Lauren purred, “wouldn’t you say Pete?”

Peter stammered, “Uh..well, uh I don’t know.”

“Leave the poor kid alone,” Jack was uncharacteristically on his side, probably because he found a new internal antagonist in Dr. Bashir.

The conversation eventually turned to the military situation in the sector, there were rumors that the Dominion was going to sue for peace in the coming weeks. After helping clean the plates, Peter said his farewells to the group and returned to his quarters where he found May slumbering peacefully on one of the living room couches. 

He freshened up before lying down, watching the rotating field of stars and listening to the low hum of the Station’s systems before sleep took him.

~~~~~~

The next morning he woke up to the alarm, he quickly donned his clothes and made his way down to the promenade where Chief O’Brien was waiting for him.

“Morning, Pete.” 

“Hi,” Peter offered back, meekly, “what’s first on the list today?”

“First? Breakfast, come on.”

Peter and Miles sat at the replomat, scarfing down a rather large breakfast while going over the systems they’d be looking after today. The day passed by quickly, with Peter getting a crash course in Cardassian power systems, docking systems, the interface of Bajoran, Cardassian and Federation technology and the problems that seemingly popped up endlessly. 

Peter couldn’t help but be impressed with the man, taking on the nonstop task of keeping this ‘Cardassian monstrosity’ as he referred to it running. They got into a back and forth about their lives, Miles O’Brien was a family man at heart and Peter could appreciate that. Eventually the conversation turned to his previous mentors, namely Tony Stark. 

“I question the rationality of a man who will strap repulsors to his feet and hands,”

Peter laughed, he found an easy rapport with the Chief, “Oh Tony Stark had many things going for him, bit of a mad scientist, in the best possible way.”

O’Brien was wistful, “He sounds like the early Starfleet engineers, heedlessly advancing the frontiers of technology without a thought to their own safety or sanity.”

“Oh, they’re not like that anymore?”

“Some are, but things are run a bit more tightly now than say in, Jim Kirk or Jonathan Archer’s day. What about you, you said you enjoy tinkering around?”

“Oh, it’s more of a hobby than a necessity for me now, but I can show you some of my creations?”

“Please, I’d love to see them once we’re done here.”

After completing repairs on a particularly nasty feedback loop in the habitat ring’s replication systems, Miles and Peter made their way to the quarters Peter shared with his Aunt. She had decided to take the day to go planetside on Bajor while the Mutants were under the care of Doctor Bashir and his staff, and Peter was puttering around with Mr. O’Brien.

Gingerly taking a few of his gadgets out of his bags, he mounted the web launcher onto his wrist, aiming for the opposite wall a quick ‘thwip’ resulted in a string of the white stringy substance attaching itself. O’Brien looked on impressed.  
Pulling out a tricorder, he whistled “This ‘web’ has the tensile strength of galvanized steel, but it’s degrading rather fast.”

“Oh that’s by design,” Peter remarked, “The City of New York probably wouldn’t appreciate strings of web being strewn in hard to reach places if it didn’t dissolve.”

“And you used this to swing from place to place, like some kind of monkey swinging along vines in the Amazon?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“You weren’t afraid it would fail, and plunging you to an untimely demise?”

“Oh that happened once or twice, but I learned how to fall without injuring myself.”

O’Brien was looking through the tricorder, “This really is a fairly advanced polymer you’ve got created here. Have you thought about submitting a paper to a material science periodical?”

Peter never considered that, now that he didn’t need to be discrete about Spider-man he could use his knowledge to advance the frontiers of science, “You think so?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a substance quite like this, what else do you have?”

Peter went over some of the prototype designs for various gadgetry he’d never had a chance to employ, electrified webbing, anti-grav suspension using Iron Man’s repulsor tech, all used in the service of neutralizing dangerous criminals non-lethally.

“In all your time stopping criminals in twenty-first century New York you’ve never had to take a life?”

“No, not ever,” and that’s one thing Peter was thankful for. Even went out of his way to save the lives of people who had no qualms about ending his own life.

O’Brien looked at him thoughtfully, “you’re just a kid…”

Peter frowned, and O’Brien quickly added, “Don’t get me wrong, what you did was incredible, but you shouldn’t have had to. I’d hope even if the worst happens to Keiko and myself, Molly will never need to fend for herself in such a way.”

Peter never thought about it from a parents’ perspective, having been orphaned since he was six, but he wondered how Richard and Mary Parker would have reacted finding out their teenage son was scuffing with New York’s scummiest each and every night.

“Enough about that,” O’Brien added, “We still have a EPS junction to realign, then how about you join Julian and I for darts at Quark’s.”

“Lead on, sir.”

“Now none of that, call me Miles, or if you must insist on a title, chief.”

“Got it, chief!” He gave a mock salute as he followed the older engineer to their next task.

~~~~~

The Doctor and the Chief got into a spirited competition, their game of darts drawing a crowd inside Quark’s. Peter stood with the onlookers. Of course, Dr. Bashir had to take his turns a bit further back than the chief, owing to his enhanced hand-eye co-ordination.

Peter felt a hand grasp his shoulder and he turned around to see May.

“Off-duty?”

“For the night, how was your time with the Chief?”

“Oh it was great,” Peter gushed, keeping his attention focused on a very close match between the CMO and the Chief of Operations, “I feel like I could learn more about engineering and operations following him around for a few weeks than years attending the academy.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” May said, waving at the Doctor who returned her smile. Peter looked back and forth between the two.

“Isn’t he a little young for you May?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Pete.”

“And you call me oblivious.”

Peter and May took two seats away from the bustle, Peter with a synthale he ordered earlier in his hand.

“When did you start drinking?”

“What, it’s synthehol, it’s not even the real thing.”

May shrugged, flagging down a bartender to order her own drink.

“How’s the mutant crew holding up?”

“Peter, don’t call them that.”

“They call themselves and me by extension that. It’s our word; you can’t use it though that would be offensive.” Peter said with some cheek.

May rolled her eyes, “Actually the last few days it’s been a cakewalk. Their time with Dr. Bashir is doing them good, even if this ‘study’ doesn’t pan out.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently they were able to glean some vital information form a Dominion broadcast, there’s talk of letting them have access to intelligence reports.”

Peter muttered, “just what we need, Jack directing the war effort.”

May chuckled, “It’s not so bad.”

“Oh I know, and I’m glad that they’re able to contribute somehow.”

The crowd slowly dissipated, the Chief and the Doctor emerging from their match.

“So, who won?”

O’Brien crowed, “I did, you’re buying the next round, Julian.”

Bashir rolled his eyes, signaling for one of the Ferengi waitstaff to bring them more synthale.

“Oh I don’t believe I’ve introduced you to May Parker, Miles.” Bashir commented.

“You’re Peter’s mother?”

“Aunt, by marriage,” May corrected “Pleasure to meet you Miles. Peter’s had nothing but nice things to say.”

“You raised me from infancy, you’re pretty much my mother in all but name.”

May threw her arm around Peter’s shoulder, giving him a peck on the temple, “and I couldn’t ask for a better son.”

“What did you do, back in your timeline?” Miles asked.

“I was an ER nurse.”

“Did your nephew ever end up under your care?”

May pulled a face, “No. I didn’t find out about his ‘nocturnal activities’ until a few months before we were transported to this timeline.”

Peter looked somewhat embarrassed, “I was hell-bent on keeping it from her for her safety, my ‘mentor’ sent back one of my suits and I put it on without thinking to close the door to my room.”

“I was livid,” May remarked.

O’Brien scoffed, “I can’t imagine what I’d do if I found out my Molly had taken up a career as a vigilante at the age of fifteen, the term grounded for life comes to mind.”

“It’s not as bad as all that, I had a significant advantage over the hoi-polloi of the New York criminal underworld,” Peter defended himself.

“You almost died to that freak in a winged power-suit.” May chided him, Peter looking suitable abashed.

She sighed, “I made my peace with it, because I realized there was really nothing I could do to stop him. In a way I’m really proud of him, and also terrified.”

“My mother was the same when I joined up, especially during the border wars. She told me ‘Miles, if some Cardassian kills you I’ll have you revived just so I can murder you myself’”

May nodded her head, “That about summed up my feelings.”

“How are you adjusting if I may ask, when I was displaced in 2024 it was a jarring experience, and I was only stranded for a matter of days.”

Peter and May looked at each other before she continued, “The first few days were hard, especially when we thought we were alone.”

“I was pretty much in fight or flight mode until Dr. Loews calmed me down.”

May added, “Since then though, we’ve had a fairly easy time adjusting.”

“We’ve wanted for nothing,” Peter chimed in, “ I mean we weren’t poor back home, but it was a sort of one bad day away from destitution situation most people found themselves in back home.”

“Did you have sanctuary districts in your timeline?”

“Sanctuary districts?”

“Walled off sections in cities for the poor and indigent, ostensibly offering free shelter and food but they became prison colonies. Captain Sisko and I spent some time in one, due to a transporter accident.”

“Where, in the US?” Peter asked.

“San Francisco.”

Peter snorted, “San Francisco’s real estate was some of the most expensive in the world, no developer would let a large swathe of land go to the government to help the poor, however ineptly.”

“It wasn’t quite that bad, but we were living paycheck to paycheck, especially after my Ben died.”

“The biggest struggle I had since coming here was in the immediate aftermath, proving that I’m not a megalomaniacal tyrant in waiting.”

“Ah yes, did you get the ‘for every Julian Bashir there may be a Khan Singh in waiting’ speech.”

“He does get mentioned a lot, it’s really not fair to the other augment overlords is it?”

May quipped, “I read the history of the Eugenics Wars, Khan was supposed to be the best of them too, what gives?”

“Oh, he resurfaced about a century ago, tried to take over the flagship of the Federation then was involved in an attempt to steal classified terraforming technology.”

O’Brien laughed, “James Kirk, now there was a captain; he even gave us a dressing down after a bar fight.”

May raised a single eyebrow, “Another time travel misadventure?”

“Maybe you should join Starfleet too May, we might just end up home by accident.”

The table erupted in laughter. May finished off her drink, “I should get some rest. I have an early morning with our patients tomorrow.”

“That’s probably my cue to retire for the night too,” Bashir added.

O’Brien downed the rest of his drink, “We’ve got an early morning tomorrow too Mr. Parker, that is if you’re still interested.”

“Oh, yes! Definitely!”

“Great, then we can introduce you to our Alamo program after work.”


	11. Chapter 3, Part 3

**Stardate 51265 – April 8, 2374**

**Peter Parker**

The battlefield was littered with the Mexican infantry and Texan dead, leaving a baffled Miles O’Brien and Julian Bashir staring at Peter Parker gormlessly. The dust was settling.

“Julian…did we just win?”

Julian looked on amazed, “I think we did?”

“What did we win exactly?”

Peter chimed in, “We preserved the institution of slavery in Texas for one more day.”

“Wait, what?”

“You guys do know why the Texas revolution happened right? The Guerero decree? I swear, MJ would kick my ass if she ever found out I play-acted the Texan revolutionaries.”

O’Brien looked on in his lopsided coonskin cap, “Well to be honest I never really looked that much beyond the battle. The heroic sacrifice of the Texians, battling against long odds, that sort of thing.”

“Maybe look up some historical context when you choose your next recreation, eh fellas?”

Julian and O’Brien looked at each other, Julian commenting “I feel kind of dirty now.” 

“Maybe we should delete this program.”

“Definitely, and never mention this to Captain Sisko, or Kira.”

The program ended revealing the hologrid behind the illusory images of nineteenth century San Antonio. The trio left the suite, still clad in their period costumes. The door gave way to the bustle of Quark’s bar. Happy hour had just passed, and the lounge was near capacity, filled with the noise of happy patrons and gamblers.

“Chief, over here!” came the call from a statuesque woman, Peter recalled seeing her and her distinctive spots around the station. Beside her, an imposing Klingon in a command uniform, Peter didn’t need introductions to Worf formerly of the Enterprise.

“Found someone new to drag to the holosuite?”

“Ah yes, Peter meet Lt. Commanders Jadzia Dax and Worf, this is Peter Parker.”

“One of the augments?” Jadzia mentioned as the Klingon looked on him with some mistrust.

“That’s right, uhh, ma’am.”

“You’re not in Starfleet, you do not need to observe the protocols, just Jadzia or Dax is fine.”

“Sure, Jadzia.”

“Please, take a seat,” she pointed to the empty chairs, elbowing Worf.

“Apologies, it is good to meet you Mr. Parker.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Jadzia rolled her eyes at Peter’s formality just as Quark, the bartender appeared form the crowd carrying a tray of synthales for the trio.

“How was your heroic defense of the mission today?” He asked, in his insincere way.

“Best not to talk about it,” Julian quickly said, “in fact, forget the Alamo.”

Jadzia raised her eyebrow as Peter chortled, “care to explain?”

O’Brien looked at his drink, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Dax, “Historical context.”

“Historical context?”

“That’s all I’ll say.”

Bashir segued smoothly, “Still, it was fascinating to watch Mr. Parker’s abilities firsthand?”

That piqued Worf’s interest, “Oh?”

“I’ve never thought it possible for a human to dodge projectiles so effortlessly.”

Peter ducked his head, “It’s a sort of danger sense I have. Dodging rifle fire is actually easy compared to what I had to do contend with back in my time.”

Jadzia perked up, “Oh that’s right. I’m not the oldest person at this table anymore.”

“Pardon?” Peter asked.

“Oh, my symbiont is well over three hundred years old. By my reckoning, that part of me was born around 2018 according to the old Earth calendar.”

Peter looked taken aback, “I was displaced in 2018, we…we, that is my aunt and I were displaced in 2018.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring anything up.”

“No, no it’s not your fault. Just haven’t thought about that day much, speaking of battling lost causes.”

Worf asked, “What happened, if I may ask?”

“You know I’ve never really talked about it to anyone, I mean there was a Vulcan psychiatrist who did a mind meld and witnessed the events but even then, we didn’t speak much about it,” Peter started, “It really started as a normal school day...”

Peter went into an explanation of his last day in his home universe. From the trip to MOMA being interrupted by an alien attack, to the fight in New York, to stowing away aboard the ship that brought them to Titan. He held a captive audience as he described the fight with Thanos, the attempts to strip him of his unfathomable power ruined by the actions of a grieving smuggler.

“We were just sitting there after the fight, I’ve never felt so helpless. Then it started. One by one I saw the people with whom I fought turn to dust before my eyes. I felt this, I wouldn’t say pain but discomfort unlike anything I ever felt before. I felt sapped of energy, I was grasping at Mr. Stark, I was terrified. I didn’t want to die but I knew it was coming.”

Peter looked on, his focus not on any one person or object in the bar, before shaking his head slightly and looking at Dr. Bashir “Then I woke up with Jack looming over me with a hypospray. People witnessed me agglomerating out of dust in Midtown. I still don’t know why I or my aunt were brought here, maybe whatever Thanos did couldn’t kill people directly, only misplace them. Or maybe some other power was looking out for us. I don’t know.”

“What a senseless waste of life,” O’Brien offered.”

“I don’t know if he culled half the universe, or just the local sector, but we failed.”

“Yes, you did.” Worf chimed in, “But not through any fault of your own. You fought valiantly, and while victory would have been preferable there is no shame in honorable defeat.”

“Honestly, I’d find the whole thing unbelievable if I didn’t witness what I did in the holosuite,” O’Brien added.

“If you have time, would you join me for one my training programs before you leave?” 

He had to think about the Klingon’s request. He did not want to become a sideshow on display, and he took Meren’s warning to heart, “I will, but please don’t spread word of my abilities around other Klingons.”

“Why not?” Worf bristled.

“I just don’t want to spend the next few days warding off B’aht Qul challenges from every KDF officer stationed here.”

Worf hummed to himself, and nodded in acknowledgement, “I’ll be discrete.”

“If there’s one thing Worf values more than Klingon honor and tradition, it’s not being bothered,” Jadzia claimed as she gently placed a hand on Worf’s knee.

“I don’t know about you all, but I’ve got an early day tomorrow, expecting a rather large data transfer from Starfleet Intelligence.”

Peter responded, “It’s not really my place, but I wanted to thank you doctor. It’s good to see Jack, Lauren, Patrick and Sarina with a sense of purpose.”

“Yes, well. There but for the grace of god went I, so it really isn’t a burden.”

Worf chimed in, “Their analyses so far have been astute, perhaps I was wrong to prejudge them.”

Bashir smiled, “It’s alright Worf, and you weren’t the only one.” 

After bidding everyone a good night, the rest of the group dispersed as well, Peter made his way back to his quarters to find May fast asleep. On reflection over the past few days, it was strange to be so open with his abilities and history. Still, Starfleet officers appeared to be used to anomalies like him, which made unburdening himself easier. More than anything his time on the station cemented his desire to see through his academy training and that meant more review for his upcoming examinations. He freshened up, allowed himself to sink into his mattress and continued reading on until sleep took him.

~~~~~~~~

The station was on security lockdown, travel between habitat rings and the promenade was slowed to a crawl due to checkpoints being set up during the visit of Dominion officials. Peter hadn’t visited the mutants in days. Both he and the other mutants were busy in the last days, shadowing Chief O’Brien and running intelligence analysis respectively.  
He felt guilty. He didn’t like to neglect them, with the possible exception of Jack and even he has been better the past few days, so yes, he feels guilty neglecting even that bag of neuroses. 

Having gotten to know the various senior staff of the station felt like a privilege he should exploit to its fullest. Chief O’Brien reminded Peter of a weird amalgam of Tony and Happy, a technical wizard who can turn rocks into replicators, while also being a grounded everyman which for all his qualities Tony was very much not.

Jadzia Dax was a mystery to Peter. How anyone can balance eight distinct personalities in one body, when he could barely manage to be himself most of the time baffled him. And really, anyone with that much experience should be running this station but she deferred to her friend, the Captain who he had yet to meet.

Peter had never met Thor, but he imagined Worf would find a ready companion in the Thunder God. The serious façade belied a more complex individual, and he knew that Jadzia Dax could not stomach being married to someone who was a rigid stick in the mud.

Now his thoughts turned to Dr. Bashir as he entered the cargo bay that served as the quarters for the mutants.  
Dr. Bashir who was lying unconscious and tied up on the floor. Dr. Bashir who was lying unconscious and tied up on the floor next to his equally incapacitated aunt, what in the everloving hell happened here.

He cantered over to the pair lying unconscious. They were still breathing, just completely passed out. He tried to shake them awake. No luck. It was then he noticed Sarina Douglas staring at nothing, as usual.

“Sarina, what happened here?”

No response, yet he persisted.

“Sarina, did Jack, Patrick and Lauren do this,” He didn’t know why he was asking; he knew.

A barely discernible nod came from the young woman. Peter knew that the three of them were in possession of critical intelligence. He knew that Dominion dignitaries were on the station, and he knew they voiced their objections to the continued pursuit of war against the Dominion rather vociferously over the last twenty four hours.

Chief O’Brien told him as much, relaying his worries over his friend Bashir’s continued association with Jack’s pack. Peter did not share their nihilistic outlook on the war. Their prognostications weren’t pretty, and so far, most of their analysis had been accurate. Still, to just lay down and accept Dominion rule in hopes that someone, some day would lead a successful uprising didn’t sit well with Peter. 

Now he had to find where Jack, Lauren and Patrick might have gone. Running to his quarters quick, he fastened his web-shooters onto his wrists. Bringing up a map of the stations interior he discarded the idea that they would use a direct route, too much security between them and the most likely location of the Dominion representatives.

The most likely place he deduced would be one of the cargo bays. Peter decided going on a one-man mission to stop them would probably not be appreciated by the station’s staff, still he was in the best position to help. He hit the communications console, “Peter Parker to Chief O’Brien, are you there Chief?”

“O’Brien here, what can I do for you?”

“Chief, I found Dr. Bashir and May unconscious in the mutants’ quarters. I think they’re off to try and meet the dominion representatives, best guess would be cargo bay two. I’m gonna try to intercept them.”

“Peter, don’t do anything, let security take care of it.”

“Chief, they’re genetically engineered, I think the only way security can take care of them would be with phaser fire and I don’t want to see them hurt.”

The long suffering sigh of the chief was audible over the comm, “Alright, but be careful, I’m going to contact Odo to keep an eye on the Dominion representatives.”

“Thanks, Chief!”

Peter opened the door to a crawlspace, making his way through with great haste, using the webs to propel himself forward, upward, sideways as necessary.

Peter crawled out of the Jeffries tube, honing his senses he could hear the trio muttering conspiratorially to one another. Jumping up on the ceiling of the corridor he hid in a corner waited for them to turn past before pouncing.  
It took seconds, but there wasn’t much struggle and Jack was glued to the wall with webbing while Lauren and Patrick looked on frozen in shock.

“You little traitor!” Peter had had enough, he shut Jack’s mouth with a glob of webbing.

“What were you three thinking?” Peter admonished, “You’ll be lucky if they don’t slap espionage charges on you.”

“What choice did we have? This entire war effort is doomed,” Lauren offered.

Jack was muttering loudly, struggling against the webbing.

“There’s always a choice, you can’t know what will happen no matter how genetically engineered your critical neural pathways are.”

Jack continued to struggle against his restraints, Patrick looked chastened though that meant nothing Patrick always looked chastened, or sad; Lauren’s face betrayed nothing.

“Come on, let’s get back to the cargo bay, since nothing happened maybe they’ll go easy on you.”

“Lauren what will they do to us, I can’t go to prison?” Patrick whined.

Lauren rolled her eyes, “You’re already in prison, Patrick whatever they do to you can’t be any more confining than the institute.”

As sad as Peter found it, they had a point, though he managed, “One thing they’ll do to you is never trust you with anything again. You made some headway and just threw it all away.”

“What does progress matter when the Dominion will kill us all,” Lauren bit back.

Peter sighed as he unstuck Jack from the wall, motioning the other two to follow him back to their quarters where he met a visibly relieved Chief of Operations and groggy but otherwise unharmed Bashir and May.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Dominion representatives departed the station, no agreements were made and the war raged on. Peter waited patiently as the DS9’s operations center came into view. Escorted by Chief O’Brien he made his way to the prefect’s office. 

“Go on,” O’Brien motioned as he left to take his station.

The door slid open to reveal a stately desk with a large viewport behind it. Standing in front of the viewport was a man who simply exuded command presence. 

Captain Benjamin Lafayette Sisko figured prominently in the reports from the war front. For a time he was the adjutant to Admiral Ross. He was credited with stopping the Dominion reinforcements making their way from the Gamma Quadrant, most figured that he is the reason the war is more akin to a stalemate than a complete rout for the Federation.

“Mr. Parker,” Sisko proffered his hand.

“Uh, Captain, sir,” Peter lamely offered back.

“Mr. Parker, let me begin by saying that I make it a point not to let civilians get themselves involved in matters of station security.”

Peter was about to interrupt, but the authoritative man raised a finger.

“I do not let civilians get involved in matters of station or Starfleet security, but I had a chance to speak with some of my senior officers, Chief O’Brien particularly was effusive in his praise. I take his opinion very seriously. So let me thank you, personally. Your quick action saved us from possibly immeasurable damage.”

“Sir, I just wanted to say, Jack, Lauren and Patrick, they’re not well. What they did was wrong, I just hope you t-take that into account before pressing charges.”

Peter Parker had never met Nick Fury in person, but he’d seen the man in various conferences, heard enough stories about him from Tony. If the man had any descendants, Peter would be hard pressed to believe that Ben Sisko wasn’t one of them. Peter’s shoudlers were tense in the silence, before the station commander continued.

“I’ve already had this talk with Dr. Bashir. No charges against your companions will be forthcoming, but I am ordering them to leave the station. I imagine you’ll follow soon behind, though the order does not extend to you,” Sisko said, taking his seat.

“You’re welcome to return any time, and I hope once you’ve completed your time at the academy, of which I have no doubt, you’ll consider this as a first posting,” Sisko remarked, pushing forward a PADD.

Peter picked up the tablet; it was a letter of recommendation to the admissions board of the academy. He didn’t know what to say beyond “Thank you, sir. If I have a choice in the matter I’ll definitely consider it.”

“That’s good to hear. Now if you’ll excuse me, this war waits for no man.”

“Yes, sir.” Peter clipped off. 

Peter left the office, looking out onto Ops and the Chief who was giving him an encouraging smile. On the occasion of his departure from the station he looked back on the last several days and hoped that one day he’d return.

~~~~~~~

The SS Xhosa, a cargo freighter captained by Kassidy Yates, Ben Sisko’s partner had provided the berth home for Peter, May and the mutants. Its spartan accommodations were less luxurious than the Galaxy Class vessel that had brought them to DS9, but somehow, he felt more at ease in this ship than the Challenger.

Patrick and Lauren had forgiven him rather easily, Jack still wasn’t speaking to him or Sarina after the incident, Peter was updating Simon over subspace.

“May has become more cautious around Jack and the crew,” Peter added, “she doles out treatments, keeps conversation to a minimum.”

“Oh that must be weighing on poor Patrick, he loves May,” Simon replied.

“I know what its like to be on May Parker’s shit list after breaking her trust, believe me I wouldn’t wish the feeling on anyone.”

“It’s almost like disappointing your weirdly young grandmother.”

“Still, May’s weakness is pitiful creatures, Patrick is slowly whittling her resolve.”

Simon laughed, “There’s really nobody more pitiful, is there?”

“Not really,” Peter chortled, “how’s academy life.”

“Oh, yeah, I meant to tell you. My application was approved” Simon added, “I’m going to the medical academy next year, or should be if I do well enough on the finals.”

“Following in your mother’s hallowed footsteps?”

“Not likely, I mean don’t get me wrong I love the mutants but spending my life being a babysitter to the most condescending children in the galaxy sounds like a punishment, not a posting.”

“Don’t let May or Karen hear you say that.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, but you know what this means right?”

“What?”

“If, look at me saying if, you got a letter of recommendation from Captain Sisko. What’s the matter Pete, couldn’t impress Captain Picard? Or DeSoto?” 

Peter rolled his eyes, as Simon continued “When you enter the academy next year, we should finish at the same time.”  
“Unless I get a field commission after two years.”

“Yes, unless that happens. And if you do, I’ll be very sad, or at least try to find time to be sad as I’m drowning in work.”

"Listen, Simon. I've been meaning to bring something up..." The comm system started chirping mid conversation.

“Got another call?”

Peter tapped the screen, a text prompt came, simply saying _MEET ME AT THE SECONDARY ENVIRONMENTAL CONTROLS_

“Oooh, cryptic,” Simon commented.

Another prompt popped up, _IMMEDIATELY_

“Well, I guess I should go?”

“Go on, superspy, I’ll see you when you get home.”

Peter blushed at the nickname, before waving goodbye and cutting off the signal. Looking at the ship’s schematic he found the environmental controls on the lower deck, in the aft of the ship. Making his way through the surprisingly empty corridors and stairwells he opened the door to the control room.

There, dressed in civilian clothes was a familiar green face. 

“Hello Peter,” she commented, staring intently at the screen, “please, sit.”

Peter sat at the adjacent chair, facing Teyla as she seemingly went about her work.

“I thought I wouldn’t hear from you until I at least formally joined up.”

“That was the plan, but plans change.”

“What?”

“Peter, you did well on DS9, I wanted to convey the thanks of the organization.”

“Glad to be of service,” he deadpanned, “what can I do for you?”

“Nothing too complicated, just wanted your opinion.”

“You took a posting on a freighter just to gauge my opinion on something?”

“If you want to believe that, sure.”

“Very well, what kind of hot take do you want?”

“Hot take?”

“Expression, what did you need?”

“Dr. Julian Bashir, what do you make of him?”

Peter shifted back on his chair, “You’re not going to do anything to the Doctor are you?”

“Peter, despite our, ahem, more surreptitious nature we do not make it a point to ‘go after’ Federation citizens in any other capacity than recruitment.

Somehow, Peter found that hard to believe, wait, “Recruitment?”

“Yes. And having spent time with him, we just want your impression. Think of it as a job reference, only before the interview.”

Peter scratched the back of his head, “I mean, he’s a dedicated Starfleet officer, entirely professional. Definitely one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”

“Go on.”

Peter sighed, trying to think, “He’s an idealist and an ideologue, utterly dedicated to the Federation and the principles that guide modern medicine. He’ll have a hard time stomaching the idea of Section 31, you may have your hands full if you try to recruit him.”

She motioned Peter to continue as she seemingly tapped away at the controls, “he’s also swings wildly between optimism and pessimism, I’m sure you heard about his assessments of the conduct of the war.”

“We have similar concerns, rest assured we’re working to remedy them in a way that won’t require abject surrender,” she observed, betraying a hint of distaste.

“That’s all I can think of.”

“Thank you, Peter, you may go.”

“You’re not going to hurt him are you?”

“Not much,” Peter raised his eyebrows, “That was a joke Peter, of course not. You may go.”

Peter rose from the chair, sighed and left the Orion woman behind to her ‘work’. Making his way back to his bunk he laid back sighing as he wondered what to fresh hell he had just condemned Doctor Bashir.


	12. Chapter 4, Part 1

**Simon Loews**

Stardate 51465 – June 19, 2374

_USS Voyager Found, Stranded in the Delta Quadrant_

_Yukio Childers, FNS Bureau Chief, Sector 001_

_A little over four years ago, the USS Voyager left on a previously classified mission into the former Cardassian Demilitarized Zone and disappeared. Approximately one year ago, the ship was declared lost by Starfleet. _

_Prior to the start of the Dominion War the Voyager Families and Vigils were a common sight on Earth, and around Starbase Deep Space Nine from where the seemingly ill-fated ship embarked. In the early morning hours of Stardate 51463, at approximately 03:45 GMT Starfleet issued a press release stating Voyager was found._

_In what is sure to be a miracle to the families of the missing crews the ship used an alien array system to transfer their Emergency Medical Holographic Program to a Starfleet vessel on a deep space assignment approximately 60,000 light years from their present location. Since then Starfleet has released the details of Voyager’s situation._

_On Stardate 48315, while in pursuit of a Maquis vessel Voyager was swept into the Delta Quadrant by an alien life-form. The Maquis vessel, Val Jean, had been swept away in the preceding days. In the four years since, the two crews joined together to survive what is currently the farthest deep space assignment on record._

_Adm. Owen Paris, whose son Thomas Eugene Paris was stationed aboard Voyager spoke on behalf of the families, saying “We are immensely relieved and overjoyed to hear our family members are alive. I plan to do everything in my power to steer Starfleet Command towards bringing Voyager home safe and sound.”_

_FNS will provide extensive coverage of Voyager over the coming days and weeks, for now the crew of the lost vessel is in the thoughts of the entire FNS family and the whole of the Federation. _

Exam time came and went. Simon thought, as he remembered the news alert that was the talk of everyone at the academy, even supplanting the latest news from the war. Simon mused how much easier his life would be if he was stranded in the Delta Quadrant right now.

He envied Peter. Everything came easy to the younger man. Watching him retain and regurgitate knowledge with ease, while eating his own weight in food and not gaining a single pound made Simon ponder on the unfairness of the universe. It didn’t’ help that he was completely and utterly head over heels for the guy.

It’s why he was subsumed in his own personal project to avoid Peter as much as possible. Ever since the night of the exams when he had to come to terms with his feelings he couldn’t so much as look on the boy without feeling like his stomach was turning upside down and his speech centers stopped working properly. Having fifty-two light years between Peter and himself helped.

Since returning a few weeks ago, both boys had been busy preparing for their own exams, Simon’s end of term tests and Peter’s entrance exams. He hadn’t seen Peter outside the few calls they made. That was changing.

Both of them were done, Peter in fact got his acceptance letter to the academy, ordering him to report for duty in September. That’s how Simon found himself standing in front of May and Peter’s apartment, holding a brightly wrapped bundle.  
The door opened to reveal Peter’s aunt, her usually flowing hair wrapped up in an upward bun. 

“Simon!” She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around the young man giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Hey May!” 

“Peter’s in his room, with Meren. Go on in, I’m just finishing the appetizers.”

Oh, she was finishing them alright, Simon could smell them burning. The poor woman was a menace in the kitchen, but she keeps on trying. It’s only a matter of time before she gives up the conventional cooking and just goes for the replicated stuff.  
Simon made his way through what Peter assured him was a spacious apartment. He supposes space is less of a premium on Earth these days, compared to when Peter came from when there was two billion, give or take a million more people living on the planet. Peter told him that he would have had to have been amongst the richest people in the city to afford an apartment like this in Brooklyn where he came from.

Simon still couldn’t wrap his head around that sort of system, but then he supposed he didn’t have to. Opening the door to the room he saw the object occupying his thoughts for the last few weeks looking smart as hell in an operations gold cadet uniform, causing him immediately to tense up.

Lying on the bed, with a leg draped over the edge and one elbow propping her up was Meren, who looked equally dashing in a science blue cadet uniform.

Peter turned around, giving a thousand-watt smile that caused Simon’s stomach to lurch, “Hey!” 

He came in for a hug, and Peter’s hugs were something else, maybe because of his superhuman strength he could hear the bones in his body creaking but he couldn’t bring himself to chide the other man. Bringing his free arm around the man as his trapped arm held on to the present he’d bought the newly commissioned cadet.

Being released from the young man’s grip he passed on the wrapped parcel into his hands, “This is for you, congratulations Cadet Parker.”

Peter looked at Simon taking the present. The wrapping is carefully removed, revealing the leatherbound tome.

_Phoenix Rising: Humanity Takes Flight by Lily Sloane_

“It’s been in my family for generations, it’s a first printing. I figured since you’re going to be a warp core jockey, you get some inspiration from the pioneers of warp flight.”

Peter looked at Simon, “I can’t accept this, it’s too valuable.”

Damn Peter and his bashfulness, “Yes, you can Peter. It’s how presents work, I find something thoughtful and you accept graciously.”

Peter’s shoulders dropped, he carefully put the book down, “I’m going to hug you again.”

Simon let out a put-upon sigh, “Fine,” as Peter came in for another hug.

Simon looked over to Meren who raised a single eyebrow, he silently mouthed _Shut up_ and she responded with the universal gesture of zipping one’s lip. 

Simon was released from the hold, he looked down and coughed, then remembered, “Right, I got you something too Meren.”

“Ooh! What do you have for me?” The Klingon pushed Peter out of the way.

Simon brought his messenger bag, fishing out a gilded blade grip in a leather sheath, “I thought about getting you a d’ktahg, but it didn’t seem in keeping with your new digs. So I got you this instead, it’s a naval dirk from the Soviet Union around the mid twenty-first century. By then of course it was purely ceremonial, but I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Is this also an heirloom?”

“No, I found it on my last antiquing trip in Leningrad,” Karen and Simon made it a point to go antiquing every so often, their home in Stockholm was full of various paraphernalia spanning Earth’s history. Simon had started his own collection at his San Francisco abode, mostly replicas because the genuine article cost latinum that he didn’t have.

“Wait, the Soviet Union didn’t break up in this universe?” Simon was surprised, he’d have thought Peter would have consumed any and all knowledge about twentieth and twenty-first century, if only to compare with his home.

“It did, but it reformed before the third world war.” 

“It’s a worthy gift, thank you,” before he knew it Simon was subsumed in another bone-crushing hug. Unlike Peter, Meren had no sense of self control, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

He patted the Klingon on her back, “alright, I don’t think my body can take anymore Klingon and Augment hugs.”

The sound of May came from the other room, “Dinner’s ready!”

The trio made their way to the dining room. The door chimed, opening up to reveal Karen. Simon bounded over helping his mom with the bags she was carrying.

“You got the wine, Karen?”

“All sorts, May. Hey sweetheart,” she gave Simon a quick peck on the cheek, then turned to look at Meren and Peter.

“Don’t you two look smart.”

“Thank you ma’am.”

“Peter I thought I beat that nonsense out of you at the institute, besides you don’t report for duty until September so I’m not your superior officer yet.”

“Alright Karen.”

Meren rummaged through the bags, “Ah, there it is. 2309 Lusor Highlands. This must have set you back Dr. Loews.”

“Oh, no, they were giving those out during a medical symposium on Qu’Vat, Simon and I aren’t fans so feel free to take the whole bottle.”

“Thank you, I believe I shall,” she gave a sharp grin, popping open the cork and taking several gulps directly from the bottle.

“Good stuff.”

Simon shook his head, “I think I’ll go with the Pinot mom.”

May took out three more bottles, from the bags, making quick work of the corks, and passing the bottle to Simon who poured himself a generous helping, looking over at Peter raising the bottle in a silent question. The young man pushed his glass toward Simon who filled it up.

“Here we go, to the Class of 2378,” Karen raised her glass, the rest of the group followed clinking their respective containers. The tart drink filled his mouth, and he gulped it down, sardonically noting “I think I’m getting notes of crushed grape.”  
The joke got a groan out of the group, Karen playfully swatting her son. 

“Oh, May, Dr. Bashir says he should be ready for a clinical trial within a year’s time.”

Peter’s ears perked up, “I’m sorry, did you say treatment for Sarina?”

“Hmm, yes. The gist of the treatment is that it would allow Sarina’s brain to grow the synapses she needs to process sensory information. Hopefully, she would come out of her catatonic state.”

“Wow. I mean, now I’m wondering what lies underneath that non-responsive exterior.”

“Who knows, could be another Julian Bashir under there,” Simon commented.

May piped up, “Or another Jack, god forbid.”

The conversation flowed as easily as the wine, as the food was slowly devoured by the group, mostly two black holes that were Peter with his ramped-up metabolism and Meren with her redundant stomachs. 

The sounds of conversation muffled as Simon zoned out. Taking his glass Simon retired to the balcony, leaning over the banister overlooking the Lower East Side across the river. The balcony opened behind him; he didn’t need to see to know it was Peter.

“Hey, everything okay?”

Simon took a breath, “sure, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking.”

There was a comfortable silence between the two of them which Peter broke, “It’s strange, I’ve lived in this city most of my life, and three hundred years later it looks much the same.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“The city was flattened, completely destroyed. Hell, I died, or my counterpart did in the nuclear conflagration.”

Simon tended to forget that there was a Peter Parker who lived and died already in this timeline, “You think about him often?”

Peter looked at Simon, “Surprisingly? Not really. We may have shared a genome, but our lives couldn’t have been more different. But I’m sure you didn’t come out here to listen to my musings on the third world war.”

“Honestly? I just came for fresh air.”

“I could go.”

“No, please don’t,” this had gone on too long; it was time to rip the bandage off, “Peter I need to say something, and it isn’t easy.”

“Oh?”

“I kept putting it off because I value your friendship, but I can’t ignore the fact that my feelings for you have grown beyond the platonic. And I guess, I’m wondering if you feel the same?”

Peter looked down at his hands as a silence permeated the air. Slowly he moved his hand over Simon’s, the contact causing Simon’s breath to hitch.

Peter gulped, then replied “I’m not good at this. The few relationships I’ve been, that is, the one relationship I’ve attempted was a completed disaster. Usually I have someone to sound off on but now I’m in this weird situation where the object of my affections is also my best friend.”

Simon blushed, “You could always ask Meren.”

“I did, she told me to bite your wrist and smell your blood, if I got a rise out of it I should initiate mating.”

That broke the tension. Simon started with a small chortle at first before it evolved to a full belly laugh, eventually spreading to Peter. 

“That easy, is it?” Simon remarked, as he wiped his eye.

Peter calmed down, “Yeah,” taking a breath before continuing, “I’m scared of what would happen if this goes pear shaped. You’re too important to me.”

“So, you don’t want to try?” Simon asked, his heart firmly in his throat.

“I do. Believe me I do. But I also want to tread carefuly.”

Simon felt his spirit lift, he uttered quietly “I can do careful.”

The space between the two boys vanished, Simon did not know who moved first but before he knew it their lips met. Careful, that’s what it felt like. Chaste sliding of lips against lips. Peter tasted of wine and garlic from the dinner, but to Simon it was sweeter than honey. He felt a hand on the side of his neck, and then he noticed that his left hand was white-knuckle gripping the banister, and his right arm was hanging limply. It was all very amateurish, but Simon thought to himself they had time to learn.  
The boys separated and Simon finally looked, really looked at Peter. The big doe eyed dork looked positively angelic against the New York Skyline and Simon found himself wondering just what he did right to end up here with him. He wasn’t some social butterfly, he could probably count the number of real friends he had on one, possibly two hands. 

A cough interrupted the two men, Simon turned around to see Meren leaning against the door frame.

“That was adorable, but also kind of pathetic,” Meren commented, “is that par the course for human relationships?”

Peter quipped, “Some, we don’t get into the biting until the third date usually.”

“Shame. Come back in, I was supposed to call you for dessert.”

Simon looked to Peter, shrugging “lead the way.”

He followed Meren and Peter back into the dining room, May and Karen’s attention was fully fixed on the group.

“Have you two quit tiptoeing around each other?” Karen asked.

May piled on, “Can we start filling out the gift registry?”

“You knew?” Simon asked, answering before they did, “Stupid question, of course you knew.”

Karen and May looked on the pair mirthfully, “You two haven’t been subtle around each other.”

Meren snorted, “It’s sickening, really.”

“Alright, enough of this torture,” Simon put his foot down, “any more relationship talk is off limits, especially as Peter and I have yet to establish any parameters.”

Karen rolled her eyes at her son, “fine, come on the bread pudding is getting cold.”

The night rolled on, as did the conversation. Karen and Simon relayed their academy experiences to Meren and Peter. 

“Let’s see, the cardinal rule of Starfleet academy is: don’t step on Boothby’s rose beds.”

“I’d rather face a review board than earn the wrath of the old man,” Simon added.

“Boothby? Who is Boothby?” Meren asked.

“The groundskeeper, I’ve seen four pip admirals defer to the man, and somehow he manages to remember almost every cadet that’s passed through the grounds,” Karen replied, “What else am I missing Simon?”

“Well I already warned Peter about Red Squad.”

“Red Squad?” May asked.

“A bunch of stuck up cadets who consider themselves ‘the best of the best’.”

Peter butted-in, “I heard they’ve gone missing.”

“Not missing, I heard Riley Shepard bragging about some secret mission near the Joshua Albert Memorial. They’re supposed on board the Valiant, probably under a communications blackout.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t divulge Starfleet operations so blithely Simon, even if you did overhear some brash idiot,” Karen reprimanded.

“Are you saying that as my superior officer or my mom?” 

Karen chuckled, “Both.”

“Duly noted, mom”  


“So what are you going to be studying Meren?”

“I’ll be focusing on astrophysics, it’s why I was a bit jealous Pete here got to go to DS9, I’ve always wanted to look at that wormhole, see how it tics.”

“The wormhole doesn’t see much activity these days Meren,” Peter explained, “nobody risks going to the Gamma Quadrant and the wormhole aliens aren’t letting anything from the other end come here.”

Karen interjected, “This war is taking its toll on more than wormhole traffic. I’ve lost more than my fair share of friends and colleagues on the front lines.”

Meren grunted in agreement. May looked anxious, no doubt concerned for Peter’s safety now that he was joining the fleet.

“I’m so tired of war,” May added, “It seems like the last seventeen years of my life have been one string of endless conflict, ever since the Twin Towers were knocked down, then the Chitauri, then Thanos.”

“I don’t even remember a time when there wasn’t some kind of large conflict,” Peter added.

“You were only a month old on 9/11, Pete. Before that, we lived in blissful ignorance.”

Karen scoffed, “Yeah, that was life before Wolf 359 for us. Ever since then, since Alvin died it’s been one lethal Federation ending threat popping up after another. Still, I’d rather be fighting the Dominion than the Borg.”

“Why? Didn’t we defeat the Borg the last two times they attacked?” Peter asked.

Meren answered, “The Borg only sent two ships so far, and destroyed dozens of vessels and killed tens of thousands of people. If they ever sent a real force who knows the damage they could do.”

A tense silence filled the dining area, before May interrupted, “Well this conversation certainly hasn’t taken a turn for the cheerful. How about a game? I managed to find Monopoly in one of the historical databases Clare sent me.”

“Monopoly?” Karen inquired.

“It’s a game about property acquisition,” Peter added, “It’s also a good way to test whether you’re capable of killing your family members.”

“Excuse me?” Simon and Karen asked in unison.

“Oh, Peter is exaggerating, but the game has been known to arouse some, ahem, baser emotions.”

Meren chimed in, “Sounds like some kind of Ferengi past time.”

“We weren’t all that different than the Ferengi in our time, dear.” May added offhandedly, “come on, I’ll explain everything.”

May went over the rules as she set the board, cards and pieces. She would, she explained, take the role of the banker. As she finished distributing the colorful currency, everyone chose their pieces. 

“I still do not understand how a thimble can own property,” Meren interjected.

“Or a dog for that matter.” Simon looked at his pewter figure of some sort of terrier.

The game started innocently enough, though May and Peter had an advantage. Simon happened to land on the chance space, drawing an orange card he read “Go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Wait, why am I going to jail, what did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything dear, capitalism is just unfair. Come on,” Simon frowned at May’s explanation as he put his dog in the corner.

Karen turned out to be the dark horse, getting luckly enough to collect the yellow properties first. A streak of bad luck resulted in everyone experiencing a stay at the Grand Loews Hotel as she started calling it, obnoxiously.

Meren growled lowly, as she handed over the last of her cash to Karen, “What now?”

“Well, you can mortgage your properties, you won’t be able to collect rent on them though.” Peter explained.

“That never made sense to me, the whole point of rent for most people was to pay for a mortgage on properties they owned but didn’t live in,” May mused.

“Is that enough?” Meren asked, finishing her payment.

“Yes, I believe so,” Karen replied, somewhat smugly, “Your turn, son.”

Simon rolled his eyes, then rolled the dice. He moved his piece the requisite amount, “Go to jail.”

“You’re an institutional man, Simon” Peter quipped, “hardened recidivist here.”

“Yes, well what can I do, I’m locked in a cycle of poverty under the relentless capitalist boot-heel of my mother.”

Karen shrugged, “Maybe if you were better with your finances you wouldn’t be in this situation?”

The group laughed at the playful banter. The game continued into the wee hours of the night, Karen Loews proved to be the superior player as she took her last rival, May down.

Meren chimed in, “I can see what May was saying about base emotions, I had to repress my urge to challenge you to mortal combat several times throughout the night, Karen.”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re my mom and I had to repress a few murderous fantasies too.”

“Oh dear,” Karen replied, somewhat smugly, “Well, I think its time I get going, I’m dead tired.”

“I should head out too,” Meren added.

“Simon?”

“Umm, I’ll stay here overnight, if that’s okay with you May?”

“That’s perfectly fine with me. You’ll be staying in Peter’s room I’m guessing?”

“If Peter has no objections.”

Peter blushed as he looked up from the game he was organizing and putting away, and shook his head, “of course, not.”

Eventually all guests cleared. Simon had brushed his teeth and replicated himself some sleepwear for the night, making his way to Peter’s room. Peter had already made himself comfortable, reading the opening pages of the book Simon had gifted him earlier.  
Simon made his way to the adjacent bed and laid down, shifting himself so he could get a good look at Peter, “Good read?”

Peter looked over to Simon, “Just read the acknowledgments so far, I’ve already found something interesting. Look at this name.”

Simon picked up the book, he hadn’t read in years, looking at the people Lily Sloane thanked in the book’s opening, “Jean-Luc Picard?”

“Yeah, you think it’s an ancestor?”

“Maybe, or maybe he time traveled to see First Contact Day.”

“I mean, normally I’d say that’s absurd, but Chief O’Brien mentioned having traveled through time more than once.”

Simon carefully put the book away on the nightstand, Peter had shifted over on his bed, opening the sheets. Simon gaped a bit awkwardly at the younger man, before he was asked “are you waiting for a written invitation?”

It took a second for Simon to bound off his bed and onto Peter’s. The twin mattress was a bit cramped for the two of them, but Simon certainly didn’t mind the proximity. Peter’s head was propped up on his elbow, as he looked down, his left leg hooked over Simon’s.

“Your feet are cold, Pete.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

Peter smiled down on him, before dipping his head down and making contact with Simon’s lips. Peter was relentless, eventually letting his body go down on top of Simon, their legs intertwined. Simon moved his arms around Peter’s back as he felt the younger man’s very taut body relax against his own. He felt Peter’s tongue probe his lower lip, and he opened his mouth in answer, as the next few seconds descended into licks, kisses, bites and inexpert collision of teeth.  
Peter rose up, and Simon allowed his eyes to open to see Peter’s pupils were blown up and his lips slightly swollen. He let out a completely undignified giggle.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Simon answered, “I guess I just get giddy when I get…umm…excited?”

Pete gave him a crooked half smile, and Simon felt his stomach flip upside down. 

“So, where do we go from here?”

“Well, Mr. Parker, I suppose a date is in order?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll think of something,” his thoughts were interrupted by Peter’s yawn, “but for now I’ll settle for a good night’s rest.”

Peter shifted off Simon, laying down beside him with one arm buried beneath the pillow supporting Simon’s head and the other arm draped over Simon’s waist, “hmm, I agree that does sound wonderful. Computer, lights off.”

The room darkened as Simon stared at the silhouette of his friend, or something more than his friend right now. Since the balcony he wondered if he was in the middle of some wonderful dream, and if he would wake up in his quarters in the academy tomorrow, all alone.

“Night, Simon.”

“Good night, Pete.” 

Simon felt Peter’s breath slow against his neck, if this was a dream it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant one, he thought as he nuzzled closer to his bedmate and let his consciousness slowly drift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing fluff sickens me in an entirely good way. 
> 
> Next arc is going to focus on Peter at the Academy, finally. Just need to start fleshing out some more characters, and bring a few of the forgotten extras from previous chapters back.


	13. Chapter 4, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning: a bit of implied smut in this chapter.

**Stardate 51607 – August 10, 2374**

**Peter Parker**

The summer months passed quick, too quick for Peter’s liking. Spending his summer with Simon in San Francisco, exploring and testing the limits of their new relationship was as exciting and terrifying to Peter as exploring new worlds.

Both agreed to tread slowly, as neither were particularly experienced, nor did they want to destroy the foundation of their friendship which they’d built up over the year and a half that Peter had been here. So, they spent time together, getting to know one another intimately. Peter had introduced Simon to the wonders of science fiction and fantasy.

At first Simon was skeptical about tabletop games such Dungeons and Dragons, various films and novels and whatever else he could find in the historical and cultural databases. Meren had chosen to involve herself, she found the whole experience quaint, T’Lara would join them by comm or on the rare occasion she was earthbound as well. All agreed that a group that grew up with holosuites could use with improving their imagination.

When they weren’t exploring Peter’s pet hobbies, Simon had taken the time to teach Peter some essential life skills that he was sadly bereft of, much to Simon’s surprise. Simon’s devotion to cooking had evolved into an obsession, and he found Peter’s lack of skills surprising considering his aptitude with chemistry. 

Simon also took the time to broaden Peter’s horizons past Earth and Federation culture, as did Meren. The trio attended a Klingon opera, not Meren’s favorite pastime but a good primer into her culture, so she endured it. So did Peter and Simon. Peter didn’t know what to make of it, he discussed with Meren hours and hours of minutiae, figuring out how to avoid giving insult. Klingon culture was a veritable minefield.

She told him not to worry, he could break the bones of any Klingon who dared challenge him with ease, and in Klingon culture that was worthy of respect. 

In the meantime they’d take the time to explore Earth. Simon had not seen much of his homeworld, always figuring he’d have time later. Peter never had the opportunity before coming here, as traversing the planet was costly in his time. Meren was a consummate explorer and lead the two, sometimes three of them when T’Lara would join. The boys enjoyed those occasions greatly, as Meren would take to following T’Lara around like a lost puppy, leaving the two of them to their privacy.

Before meeting Peter, Simon was not one for outdoor pursuits. In fact, the first time Peter had taken the other young man on a hike through Yosemite, he complained endlessly. Eventually it devolved into a shouting match between Peter and Simon until he pointed out the fact that he was hadn’t the stamina of a Vulcan, Genetically Engineered Human or Klingon and they would have to lower themselves to his level or leave him behind.

That had taken Peter aback, and Simon didn’t speak to any of them until they made camp. T’Lara and Meren seemed to avoid them, not wishing themselves to be involved in a couples spat. Once camp was made, Simon finally felt useful, as the only person in the camp with any discernable cooking talent. This seemed to put a thaw to the whole lousy day and their first fight ended with the two of them issuing hushed apologies between hot kisses and inexpert rubbing in their makeshift double sleeping bag.

Alternatively, Peter had taken up Simon on one of his antiquing trips through the American southwest and Mexico. Not exactly Peter’s idea of a rousing good time, but every relationship has its give and take. To Simon’s credit, he had found an ancient film camera, lovingly restored to working condition. It took the both of them scouring what little latinum they had, but they managed to find enough to purchase the camera. To Peter this was something akin to finding the holy grail to Simon’s never-ending amusement.

Today, however, on the occasion of Peter’s eighteenth (or three hundred and seventy third, depending on how you count) birthday they found themselves in the arid deserts overlooking the Mariner Valley. Simon had the idea, figuring that Mars was something that would be out of reach for Peter in his own time.

Mars had changed drastically over the centuries. In Peter’s time, there was little to no atmospheric pressure to speak of, lethal radiation permeating the environment and no breathable oxygen. The earliest explores would have to wear bulky environmental suits for protection. Since then, United Earth and the Federation had changed the planet.

Dragging comets from the Oort cloud to intentionally crash them into the polar caps caused the release of massive amounts of frozen carbon dioxide, increasing atmospheric pressure, temperature and more importantly, water content. A species of extremophilic algae was introduced to convert the carbon dioxide into breathable oxygen, and nitrogen, which gave way to more conventional fauna being planted around the planet’s equator. 

The warmest temperatures on Mars were equal to that of Earth’s subarctic regions, and after two hundred years of terraforming and colonization humans only needed a warm set of layers to combat the cold Martian nights when out and about.

The rust tinged sky gave way to the vast canyon below them that dwarfed the Grand Canyon, to the point that the other side of the valley was not even visible. A hiking path down into the valley would take days to complete, Simon and Peter were already on the second day of their route.

The various dips and curves were easy for Peter with his electrostatic ability to cling to any surface and his superior vitality. Simon huffed behind him, on the first day it seemed easy enough, especially with the lower gravitational pull of Mars. But the lower oxygen content, harsh winds and dust made up for that, and four hours into their second hike of the day Simon was struggling.

Peter waited for his partner, offering a helping hand to scale a rather tricky precipice. Simon and Peter grabbed each other by the forearm, Peter’s vast strength pulling him up easily, Simon other arm winding around Peter’s waist when he made it all the way up. Looking in Peter’s eye, he had an easy grin and gave his boyfriend a quick, chaste peck on the lips before noting, “come on Pete, we still have a ways before the campsite.”

Peter looked on as Simon bounded forward, continuing on the path. It was these small shows of affection that had a tendency to cause Peter to blank out, even more than hot and heavy make-out sessions where he almost felt he had more control as the stronger party.

Peter picked up his step, following Simon for the next two hours as the path seemed to gradually ease up leading to a large cliffside clearing. Peter and Simon spotted the designated campsite which was empty for the time being and started setting up their tent and the fire.

It was an unseasonably warm night, temperatures had only dropped to 10 degrees Centigrade, meaning the boys could be out in a comfortable sweater rather than the heavy parkas they were forced to don the previous night.

They had an amicable, quiet atmosphere, listening in to the wildlife introduced to the Martian biome and the Mariner River rushing hundreds of meters below them. His thoughts turned to his old friend Ned who would alternatively be bursting with jealousy and horror equally at the thought of travailing this vast Martian wonder.

Simon had set up a small food prep station and was diligently chopping up potatoes and cauliflower as a pot of rice was simmering over the campfire. Aloo Gobi was on the menu tonight, one of their camp staples as T’Lara, like most Vulcans did not eat meat so they got used to a more spartan diet even when they were on their own.

Eventually the smell of simmering curry wafted over to Peter as he looked out on to the valley. Turning around, seeing Simon tasting the sauce he was diligently preparing against a Martian sunset made peter pull out his camera, wind the film and take a quick snap. He saved the film camera for the most poignant moments, using the holocamera for all other photos.

The click caused Simon to look up from his station, with a single raised eyebrow. The reds, oranges and purples of the sunset framing his dirty blonde hair, recently shorn into a short buzz that accentuated his more pointed features and slightly broken nose. His lips quirked into a half smile that had the effect of ruffling the butterflies in Peter’s stomach as he returned to tending to their nightly meal.

Peter thought Simon was conventionally handsome, but not ones that would stand out. Having spent time around the Avengers made Peter compare everyone to the group of superheroes who were genetically gifted in more than their powers or intellect. Simon didn’t really measure up to any of them, but he wasn’t bad to look at. More importantly, it was his companionship that Peter valued, their relationship building on a solid foundation of friendship. That isn’t to say that there wasn’t a physical attraction, as Simon and Peter spent many a night exploring and in Simon’s case engaging in almost revenant worship.

A chirp from one of their rucksacks interrupted the natural noises of the Martian wilderness, and peter rummaged through the bag to find the communications tablet. Pushing on the button to activate the system revealed the face of May Parker.  
_“Happy Birthday, hon!”_

“Hi May, thank you.”

_“How does it feel to be eighteen? The terrible weight of adulthood it you yet?” _

“The terrible weight of adulthood hit me prematurely, you know that.”

_ “Of course, dear. How are you doing? Is Mars everything you hoped it would be?” _

“It’s magnificent,” Peter remarked, activating the rear camera of the PADD to show May the vast expanse below them, and their little camp site.

_ “Hey Simon!” _ He heard may call from the communicator.

Simon looked up from the fire, and waved at the camera, “Hey May!” 

Peter turned back to the front facing camera, May commented _ “It’s a hell of a view Peter, you’re dressing warmly I hope, drinking plenty of water?” _

Peter rolled his eyes, “Of course.”

They dove into conversation of their respective last few days, May going over her work as she had finally decided to stop giving the Mutants the cold shoulder after breaking her trust on DS9. Karen had kept her up to date with Julian Bashir’s progress on a treatment for Sarina. She expounded on their latest scheme, coming up with a plan to drag the Romulans and Kzinti into the war on the side of the Federation which they sent off to Starfleet Command, not that Starfleet was keen to listen to them after their stunt with the Dominion. 

_ “…still, Karen humors them. I mean I feel for them, they don’t have the same light in their eyes they briefly had when they were working with Julian on intelligence reports.” _

Peter felt for them, but also understood why they couldn’t be trusted with sensitive information anymore.

_ “Enough about my work, what have you been getting up to?” _

“Oh, you know, walking, climbing, more walking, and some amateur photography interspersed within.”

Simon decided to interject himself into the conversation, “He’s being modest May, you should see him bounding up and down the abrupt changes in elevation, he’s like an adorable mountain goat.”

“You’ve made remarkable progress since Yosemite,” Peter observed. 

“Well, I’ve recently started reading some John Muir, he’s inspiring me to take delight in the views, plus walking behind you as you traverse the harder terrain offers a view of other things I enjoy,” Simon waggles his eyebrows.  
He saw May’s face explode into a mirthful chuckle on the other end of the line _ “Can you not perv on my nephew when I’m present?” _

“Sorry May,” Simon added, somewhat insincerely as he rose from beside Peter, “I should get back to the Food.”

_ “When you two return, stop by, I’ve got your gift.” _

“What is it?”

_ “You’ll see when you get back. Now go, enjoy the rest of your trip. Love you.” _

“Love you too, May. Bye,” he waved at the camera and cut the comm line.

Simon placed an extra-large helping of rice and curry for Peter, setting aside the rest for himself. He filled two cups with Bajoran spring wine to go with their meal. The two young men clinked their cups, taking a swig and tucking into their food.

Peter was not as hopeless at cooking as May but compared to Simon he was a rank amateur. His taste buds exploded with what was seemingly a simple recipe.

“Good?” Simon looked hopeful.

Even if it tasted like dreck, Peter would rather tear of his own arm than let Simon down, luckily that wasn’t an issue as he stuffed more food down his gullet and nodded approvingly.

“Are you sure you weren’t bitten by a radioactive baleen whale, the way you’re inhaling that food?”

Peter looked up from his bowl, seeing a bemused look on Simon’s face, he shrugged, “I’m a growing boy, what can I say?”

The two of them cleaned out their food, Simon wiped their utensils and bowls clean and disposed of the soiled wipes in the designated waste area. Making his way back to the fire, he parked himself beside Peter, so their thighs were touching. Peter felt Simon grasp his hand, and felt his hand land on his shoulder as he watched and listened to the fire crackle. 

“Looks like we’re the only ones here tonight,” Simon commented as the Sun’s last light slowly faded giving way to a bright field of stars.

“It’s clear tonight,” Peter commented, looking at the star chart on his pad he pointed to the brightest star, “That’s Phobos,” Simon looked up to where Peter was pointing.

“And that pale blue dot beneath it, is home.”

“Hmm.”

“Doesn’t apply now, but in my time everyone I loved, everyone I knew, everyone I ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant and every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there, on that mote of dust.”

Simon found Peter both saccharine and endearing in that moment, “That’s very profound, Peter.”

“And very stolen from Carl Sagan,” Peter snickered.

“Uncle Ben had me watch Cosmos when I was a kid, it’s science is somewhat outdated, but its still worth a view. I’m gonna try to find it in the historical databases.”

“Sometimes, I envy where you’re from Peter?”

“Excuse me, what? You grew up in a veritable paradise, wanted for nothing and you envied my upbringing?”

Simon smiled softly, “Yeah, I mean here it feels like nothing is new, you know, everything we can explore we did.”

“That’s not really true but continue.”

“When you grew up, humanity was just reaching out into space for the first time. Hell Peter, you witnessed first contact in your timeline, now granted it wasn’t as profound or positive an experience as ours but still, that must have been something finding out for the first time you’re well and truly not alone.”

Peter sighed wistfully, he never really thought of the Chitauri attack as anything other than a travesty but looking back it was a profound, Earth-changing event.

“I suppose when you put it like that, though at the time it didn’t feel like it.”

“What did it feel like if I may ask?”

“It felt like were sitting on a target, doing nothing to address the threats that were coming from without or the threat we presented to ourselves.”

Simon hummed as Peter continued, “Even Mr. Stark who was using his vast wealth to bring cheap renewable energy was always fighting an uphill battle against entrenched interests who saw short term profits as more important than the long-term habitability of our planet. Petty squabbles between governments, hell between the Avengers themselves who were supposed to defend us against the vast cosmic threats.”

“Weren’t you an Avenger?”

Peter scoffed, “Not really. Being here, in this time when Humanity finally got its act together provides perspective.”

“It’s easy to judge from here, but we had to make profound mistakes that your Earth managed to avoid.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it Peter, when we experimented with genetic engineering we got an ur-race of fascists hell bent on cleansing the Earth of the impure. You guys had Captain America, we had Khan Noonien Singh. You had Tony Stark, we had Colonel Green who was responsible for 37 million deaths when it wasn’t even considered war time anymore.”

Peter’s thoughts swam as Simon expounded on his own timeline’s follies, “Your Earth, even decimated as it was by that Thanos fellow is probably on much better footing than we were, and we made it. I have no doubt your Earth is just as capable.”

“Peter, the course of history doesn’t follow like some career path where the good students get rewarded with cushy jobs and the bad ones end up in some dead end. Look at the Vulcans, they nearly nuked themselves into extinction and they’re the ones who helped us out of our lowest spot. Meanwhile, the Ferengi had no major planetary wars, they never even detonated a fissile bomb on their own planet, yet they couldn’t even develop warp drive on their own, they had to buy it.”

Simon squeezed Peter’s hand, “This isn’t about the long march of progress, not really. What’s got you feeling all maudlin, tell me.”

Peter sighed, his shoulder sagged, “I’m starting at the Academy in a month.”

Simon raised an eyebrow, “are you having second thoughts?”

“No, well yes, but not like that.” 

Peter looked at Simon, “Between the Academy, and our relationship it feels like I’m giving up on ever seeing my old home again.”

Simon nodded, “Does that bother you?”

“Less and less with each passing day. Does that make me a bad person?”

“In a battle between bad and good, you’re firmly on the side of the angels, never doubt that.”

Simon moved his hand, cupping the side of Peter’s face, “And your new home can be just as good, if not better than your old home. And if I must, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Peter shifted forward to capture his boyfriend’s lips in a passionate kiss causing his heart to leap in his c chest. Simon gazed at Peter adoringly as they pulled apart. Clearing his throat, he commented “Come on, we’re out here to enjoy ourselves, not to self-recriminate. Tell me a story.”

“A story?!” Peter exclaimed.

“Sure. Everything I know about you leads me to believe your head is full of accumulated trivia. Plus you're an able DM. There’s got to be a good story in there somewhere.”

Peter scratched the back of his head, “Uhh, let me think.”

A few moments passed, Simon asked “Well?”

“Come on, man. It’s too much pressure to just come up with something on the spot.”

“Earlier you were waxing poetic about humanity’s confined existence on Earth, it was very eloquent.”

“That was pretty much burned into my memory, from watching it repeatedly during childhood.”

“Okay, so what else is burned into your memory?”

“Alright, I thought of something. Now, my retelling won’t do the story justice but here goes. In the mid twenty-fifth century, Earth-That-Was was abandoned by humanity. They settled a system, hundreds of light years from home…”  
Simon’s attention was rapt as Peter went into a tale about a crew of smugglers composed of two veterans of a lost war, a ship’s engineer with a bubbly personality, the emotionally immature man-child of a pilot, the priest with a mysterious past, the psychotic bruiser and the sibling fugitives.

The story Peter relayed was one of a train robbery, one of many jobs the crew undertook. This one was taken at the behest of a ruthless gangster who made it clear that failure was not an option. After finding out the train was carrying much needed medicines to a remote mining settlement, the Captain had a choice of completing the job or following his conscience.

Peter’s was standing, gesticulating excitedly as his voice inflection deepened as he spoke in the voice of Crow, the gangster’s right hand, “he was kneeling with his hands tied behind his back, rising to intimidate Captain Reynolds after he tried to return the money paid up-front by the gangster Niska, ‘Keep the money. Use it to buy a funeral. Doesn’t matter where you go, how far you fly. I will hunt you down and the last thing you’ll see is my blade.’ The captain looked at crow exasperatedly, uttering a simple ‘Darn’ as he kicked Crow into the ship’s engine intake.”

Simon started laughing, Peter continued “a second mook was brought before Mal, as soon as he started relaying the same offer, the henchman nodded enthusiastically ‘Oh. I’m good. Best thing for everyone. I’m right there with you.’”

Peter sat back down next to Simon as the embers in the campfire continued dimming before them. 

“Did you pick that story because it has a doctor named Simon?”

Peter chuckled, “maybe, subconsciously.”

Simon let out a yawn, “I think I’m ready to retire for the night, what about you.”

Peter looked at the stars above them once more, before nodding in agreement. The boys adjourned to their tent, lying down in their sleeping bags. It didn’t take long for Simon to lose consciousness, with Peter nestled against him. Peter placed a chaste kiss against Simon’s forehead and listened to his heartbeat as he let sleep take him.

**Simon Loews**

Simon’s imagined version of waking up next to the warm presence of a loved one was utterly mistaken. It was even worse sleeping in a cramped tent, on the ground. The Martian Sunrise crept into the tent, and his left shoulder ached after supporting his weight for the better part of the night. His hair was damp with sweat, as was the rest of his body, covered in thermal pajamas. Peter and Simon worried about the cold taking them during their sleep, it seems they over compensated.

“Gmorrnin,” came Peter’s attempt at a greeting.

Simon turned his head to face Peter, “Hey you,” giving a peck to the younger man’s temple.

Before he could react, Peter mounted himself atop Simon, propping up his arms on the either side of Simon’s help. Simon took the moment to appreciate the way Peter’s hair devolved into a mess of curls falling over his half lidded, big brown eyes. He would be the first to admit he was shallow as he admired Peter’s finer qualities. The strong arms at either side of his head, propping up the sculpted body of a Greek statue. Genetically engineered, indeed.

Peter nudged Simon’s legs apart, allowing him to melt between his thighs and on top of the blonde, lowering his head so their face was inches apart. Simon’s heart thrummed wildly, and today, like most days he wondered what he did to deserve this. He wasn’t going to question it. He moved his hand to the nape of Peter’s neck and brought their lips to a languid kiss when it hit him. Compost heap, or wet dog is how he’d describe it as soon as Peter’s breath went into mouth, he unceremoniously pushed Peter off with a “yuck.”

“Yuck?”

“Morning breath, Pete.”

Peter’s shoulders started shaking with mirth, “I kiss you and you say yuck?”

Simon looked over to Peter who was in a full giggling fit, “I was caught up in the moment. But no amount of hot boyfriend on top of you makes up for what I imagine Chewbacca’s breath smells like.”

Peter wiped his eyes as he calmed down, he reached over to his bag passing a dissolvable strip to Simon and himself before bringing their lips together in a toe-curling kiss. Peter gripped Simon’s hands bringing them up above their heads as he let himself sink into Simon’s body. Simon let out moan into Peter’s lips as he felt his hardened length against his thigh.

Peter rose up for air, and Simon’s eyes fluttered open to see Peter’s pupils blown wide, his lips swollen and a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Why did you stop? I didn’t ask you to stop!”

Peter whispered hoarsely, “are you sure?”

As if to answer the question Simon shifted his hips up to meet Peter’s, causing the boy on top to shudder as he brought his hands underneath Peter’s shirt lifting it off. Taking in the spectacular, Simon ran his hands up Peter’s heaving chest and slung them around the brunette’s shoulders as he wrapped his legs around Peter’s hips bringing him back down to Simon’s level.

Minutes later, in the wake of shucked clothes, mashed lips, hurried thrusts and moans, worshipful repartee and sated release the boys were lying in a tangled heap, listening to each other’s toiled breaths. Peter managed to dislodge himself from Simon and his reassuring weight was immediately missed.

Simon turned to face his paramour, propping himself up on his elbow and allowing his eyes and other hand to clean gently down Peter’s sculpted frame. 

Peter hummed satisfied, allowing his heavy lids to fall, and taking a deep breath. Simon quickly cleaned himself and dispensed with the towel.

Simon chuckled to himself, “Did that live up to your expectations?”

“Everything and more, you?”

“I might have some trouble walking down the rest of the way.” Simon let his head fall on Peter’s shoulders, “but it was completely worth it.”

“Speaking of, we should probably pack up camp soon.”

“Give me a moment Peter, let me bask in the afterglow.”

“Fine,” Peter turned and placed a gentle palm on Simon’s cheek and a chaste peck on his forehead. A few moments passed and the afterglow gave way to a less romantic general stickiness and body odor. Peter was the first to rise, exiting the canvas dome into the Martian morning.

Simon sighed, following Peter out of the tent as the two of them gathered their sweaty sleepwear, went through their ablutions and got ready for another day in the wilderness. 

Peter was dismantling the tent as Simon prepared the morning coffee, looking over the red stone canyon and valley in front of them as beams of pale orange light broke through the clouds, a warm dry breeze on his cheek. 

A pair of familiar arms snaked their way around his hips, and he allowed himself to lean back and relax against Peter enjoying this seemingly perfect tranquil moment. He hummed, bringing up the fresh cup of coffee and taking a deep breath before taking a sip.

“What are you thinking about?” Pete had a way of getting straight to the point.

“Hmm, just thinking of everything that’s waiting for us when we get back. Endless work, news of the war, suddenly becoming a recluse in the desert seems tempting.”

Peter hummed, “remember when I suggested Mars? And you were all like ‘why would we go to that backwater, its nothing but shipbuilding and dirt farming?’”

Simon rolled his eyes, “Fine, you were right, this was a great idea, happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Peter let go of Simon, and delivered a light swat to his posterior, “Come on Obi-Wan, I want to get to the valley floor before nightfall.”

The two boys cleared their campsite and went on their way as the clouds cleared, and the Martian sun broke through the haze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The Academy, at long last, and a different POV.


	14. Chapter 5, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the longest time I wasn't sure where this story was going. I think I have sort of an idea right now, and I'm outlining it more to plan ahead.

**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, Earth**

**Stardate 51825, October 29, 2374**

**Peter Parker**

The days melded into each other as Peter was subsumed in the mountains of coursework and endless drills. Being back in a structured academic environment after over a year, Peter found himself missing the less rigid atmosphere of Midtown High. He never planned, or even gave a second thought about continuing his education in Annapolis, or Colorado Springs in his day. 

That structure was the bane of his existence now. The pads strewn around his desk, bed and any other surface area that could hold them told this tale. Some of his professors seemed to have decided, given his gifts, that he should take on an accelerated or inflated workload compared to his classmates.

Simon told him this was fundamentally unfair, that he should bring this up with the ombudsperson, but if Peter was honest this was the first time he felt genuinely challenged at school.

He was subsumed in the stages of creep of tritanium alloys. His material science mid-term was coming in less than twelve hours. The last of a barrage of exams in topics ranging from isolinear circuitry, power distribution in holographic systems or fundamentals of starship design.

He relished the challenge, and for the first time in his life he genuinely struggled with his academics beyond time management. After all, these days he did not have the excuse of being Spider-Man for missing an assignment or falling behind in a class.   
The clickling sound of tablets coming together interrupted his study if he could call staring at the same page over and over for the last twenty minutes studying. 

He leaned back, closed his eyes, and exhaled in exasperation. Peter felt a pair of arms drape around his shoulders and Simon’s warm breath on top of his head.

“Think you’ll be able to cram anymore information into that noggin?” the question came with a quick peck on his temple.

“Maybe? I don’t know.”

“I think that’s pretty self-explanatory,” he detached himself from Peter and began putting away the rest of his work, “come on, go freshen up. I brought home some take-out.”

“Alright, you win, I’ll go.”

Peter shambled into his small bathroom, the sonic shower long since replaced with a real water shower which Simon insisted didn’t clean you as well, a price Peter was happy to pay so he didn’t come out of every shower with a headache from his enhanced senses.

He shed his clothes and let the hot water embrace him, scrubbing out the accumulated sweat and grime from the past two days, the hot water hitting his skin send a rush of endorphins flowing into his brain and letting all the stress from the last twenty-four hours flow off him.

If only he could tell Ned, the sci-fi future they’d always wanted to live in was rife with the same problems as his day to day life in New York in 2018, if anything it was less fantastical than that, because at least then he spent his days swinging between skyscrapers in red and blue tights.

Finishing his ablutions at the sink Peter looked at his face, the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent with every passing day. Life back in the twenty first century was stressful, but there was something cathartic about his patrols, stopping the various and sundry scum that proliferated around Queens, or one of the big baddies that would pop up from time to time. It provided an outlet for all his pent-up frustration.

He found himself missing the thrill of it all, and he had expounded as such to Karen during one of their oft scheduled therapy sessions. She assured him that Starfleet would fil that hole one day, though not in the first year of his academy training.

Donning a shirt, pants and pajama bottoms he made his way out of the lavatory into his and Simons’ shared living space where he found his boyfriend sitting on the couch, with a carton of food watching their makeshift television set, a monochrome film broadcasting into the room.

Peter grabbed a carton off of the kitchenette counter, along with a pair of chopsticks. He plopped himself next to Simon, giving the young man an affectionate rub on his outstretched legs, propped up on the coffee table.  
“What are we watching?” Peter asked, grabbing a bit of what appeared to be nasi goreng and shoveling it into his mouth.

“The Third Man,” Simon replied. Not to Peter’s taste but Simon who when he first met did not understand the appeal of a non-interactive visual medium like film, morphed into something of a movie buff, “ever see it?”  
“This movie came out before Aunt May was even born, so probably not.”

“Hmm,” Simon acknowledged, “someone in my class recommended it.”

“How is it so far?”

“Pretty good. Interesting to see this period, so steeped in paranoia, what was it like?”

“Uhh, well, I can’t speak much about the Cold War since it ended a decade before I was born, but we had plenty of paranoia fueled by terrorism after 9/11, then the Chitauri invasion,” Peter’s eyes were now glued to the screen, watching Orson Wells investigating the murder of a friend in post-war Vienna, “maybe we can go see Vienna and Berlin on the weekend, I’m sure they still have some museums on the subject.”

“Maybe,” Simon said, almost distractedly.

“Good way to take our mind off all the work.”

“Hmpf,” Simon grunted, “yeah, work.”

“Simon, what is it? I’m not a mind reader.”

Simon sighed deeply, “I take it you haven’t been on campus today.”

“No, my only lecture was cancelled, why?”

“Red Squad is gone.”

“Gone?” Peter remembered Simon’s warning about the cadre of cadets considered the cream of the crop, best of the best.

“Dead, well, all but one. Apparently their ship was destroyed in an attack on a Dominion warship. The academy feels like a funeral home.”

“I know you never liked them.”

“Never liked them? Hell, I loathed them, still they didn’t deserve to die.”

Add it to another pile of bad news, it seemed every day that this war was hitting closer to Earth. Up until a few weeks ago the Federation was losing ground at an alarming rate, everyone at the Academy, hell everyone on Earth seemed jumpy. More and more cadets were being offered field commissions, and there was talk of a conscription lottery for second years and higher, to replace the diminishing manpower of the Federation and Klingon Empire. 

The only relief came at the news that the Romulans joined the war on the side of the Federation, which seemed to have put a temporary halt to any talk of shoving a rifle into Peter and Simons’ hands and sending them to the front.

Peter watched the movie on the screen in front of him and almost wished for the heady days of the late aughts, when your biggest worry was whether or not some lunatic would set off a bomb in times square, or shoot up your school. 

But Peter had already lived through the worst, or died through the worst, he was not sure. Maybe that’s why he was able to keep focused on his academics, he was able to keep a clear head, and he would like to think he kept Simon grounded too.  
He draped his arm around Simon’s shoulder bringing him close felt the boy beside him briefly tense up then relax.

“We’ll get through this,” Peter remarked giving Simon’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“You sound so sure.”

“I have to. One of us has to be optimistic around here.”

Simon turned his head to face Peter, with a half-crooked grin, “you should try cynicism some time, too. You’re entirely too bubbly,” he remarked as he planted a chaste peck on Peter’s lips before returning his attention to the film.  
The pair settled into an easy silence as they movie went on. Peter’s eyes were feeling heavy after a day subsumed in theory and technical manuals, eventually fatigue gave way.

____________________

A low chime interrupted his slumber, the room bathed in low blue light from the screen as he rose from the sofa, apparently ensconced in a blanket, Simon having long since retired to the bedroom but not before making sure Peter was comfortable.  
He peered at the old-fashioned clock hanging on the wall, showing it was barely past four in the morning. Rubbing his eyes, he made his way to the desk in the living area. Tapping on the monitor he was greeted with the visage of Dr. Julian Bashir.  
“Dr. Bashir, Sir!” He intoned with all the Starfleet protocol he could muster at this early hour, disheveled as he was in his civilian pajamas.

“At ease cadet, I’m sorry it appears I caught you at a bad time. I should have checked the time in San Francisco,” Bashir said ruefully in his crisp received pronunciation.

“Uh, no apologies necessary sir. What can I do for you?”

_ “Well, as it happens, I could use your presence here on the station for a time.” _

“Sir?”

_ “As you are probably aware, I’m developing a procedure to treat Sarina Douglas’s cognitive issues. As it happens, I’ve come upon a treasure trove of new diagnostic equipment and could use a…well to put it bluntly, a genetically enhanced guinea pig. A second one, including myself.” _

Normally, the thought of being experimented on would have Peter running for the hills, but he knew that Dr. Bashir was nothing if not a consummate professional, and ethical to the bone. 

“Umm, sir. I’d be glad to help in any way I can, but this would mean being away from the academy for weeks, just to get to and from the station.”

_ “Yes, I understand that. I’ve spoken to Captain Sisko, and we would be ready to give you an impromptu field placement under Chief O’Brien for one of your credits in the following year. As for the rest of your academic responsibilities, you should be able to complete any coursework and testing remotely. We’d of course have to talk with your professors, but this shouldn’t interrupt your life too harshly.”_

Peter was intrigued. He was just pondering on the banality of his existence over the last few months. This would mean leaving his aunt, Karen and Simon.

“What about Jack, Patrick and Laruen sir, wouldn’t they make better test subjects? Sir?”

Bashir’s brow creased, before explaining _ “yes, well. They did undergo the same procedure as Sarina, but then so did I. I won’t learn anything from them that I don’t know about myself, but you are a unique case. I’m especially interested in your increased sensory perception.” _

That made sense to Peter, after all Sarina’s main issue was her brain’s inability to process her sensory information.

_ “And as, for Jack, Lauren and Patrick, they’re still more or less banned from the station. Captain Sisko insisted on it.” _

Ah yes, Peter thought. The case of slight treason the mutant pack tried to commit.

“Can I think about this sir? I’d still need to talk with my family.”

_“Ah of course. All of this is entirely voluntary,” Bashir replied, “But if you could get back to me in 48 hours.”_

“Of course, sir.”

_ “Thank you, cadet. Take care.” _

“Goodbye, Dr. Bashir,” Peter replied before the signal cut out. Taking a moment to take in his surroundings, now fully awake, just before remembering that he had an exam in four hours.


End file.
